


Those Who Mattered

by 1MissMolly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of Abortion, Explicit Language, F/M, Hopefully updated weeky, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 52,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1MissMolly/pseuds/1MissMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During his "Last Vow" Sherlock discovers Molly is pregnant by Tom. Sherlock promise to see Molly through the pregnancy but will he be able to keep his promise now that Moriarty has returned and is after the person who mattered the most to Sherlock. </p><p>I hope to update weekly over the summer to give myself something to do to keep from going insane. Sorry I have no beta and will be making mistakes. Please be patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Just as Sherlock wakes up in the hospital the second time after John confronts Mary at Baker Street.

Chapter One

Molly sat watching the man in the hospital bed. Sherlock was sleeping. His chest was bare, and the bandages from his surgery slightly discolored from where he had torn the stitches. The idiot.

Molly still had been so angry with him when he was first brought to the hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest she refused to come. But then it had been so close. They almost lost him for good, her anger lessened. She hovered near his hospital room door trying to build up the courage to enter the room and see him. Trying to think up the words she would say to him to let him know how much she really did care about him.

Then that woman came to visit. That hideous woman who made up all those terrible lies about him to the press. Sherlock wouldn’t force a woman to wear that stupid hat to make love to. He wouldn’t be insatiable about sex. Well, Molly didn’t believe he would. Honestly, Molly had tried repeatedly to get his attention, to let him know she was not only available but also very interested. Then again, maybe that Irish tart did something for Sherlock Molly couldn’t.

So as Sherlock recovered from his surgery, Molly stayed away. Then the mad man ran off. Disappeared. Thank God, John found him and brought him back. Again it was close. Several transfusions and another surgery to repair the damage Sherlock’s little adventure cost him. Molly wanted to slap his face again. Slap it or cover it in kisses.

She sat patiently on the edge of her chair watching the sleeping man. She wondered if even in sleep his mind traveled faster than everyone else. His eyes moving side to side under closed lids. His ridiculous pump lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. His fingers twitching occasionally, reaching for some hidden clue only Sherlock could see. She waited.

“John!” he gasped as his eyes snapped open. Confused and dazed he tried to sit up but the pain in his chest burned and he collapsed back to the bed.

Molly leapt from her chair and stood next to his bed. She looked down at the man as he closed his eyes and sucked in a painful breath.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes Molly thank you for your assistance. You were correct about positioning my body to cause the least amount of damage and prolong my life.” A horse whisper slipped from his lips.

“My what?” she asked confused.

“Your advice, but did you really need to show me laying on a slap in the morgue. Truly over dramatic. You could have just explained it was shock.” His voice growing stronger.

“Ah . . . Sherlock, I’m going to go get the doctor. I think you’re hallucinating.”

His eyes opened and he looked around the room carefully. Then turned the full focus of his attention on the small woman.

“Real life. Not my Mind Palace.”

“Yes real life.” She answered hesitantly. “Wait did you just tell me that you speak to me in your Mind Palace?”

His eyes quickly darted away from her and turned to the machines measuring his vitals.

“How long this time?”

“You collapsed at Baker Street. John was there. He found you and called 999. That was three days ago.” She explained. “John’s moved back into Baker Street. I think he plans on taking care of you when you recover. He’s been here every day.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to breath deep again. The pain helping him to concentrate; settle him

“Mary, where is Mary?”

“I think she is still at their flat. Sherlock I should get the doctors and let them know you’re awake.”

“In a few minutes Molly. Just let me get myself prepared for their stupid questions.”

“Sherlock any questions about your health are not stupid.” She chastised him.

He turned his head to look at her again. A small curl to one corner of his mouth moved up. She was using the same inflection in her voice the day she discovered he was still using drugs. She allowed her emotions to show regardless of her crippling shyness towards him. Just like the day she spent with him investigating. He was enjoying this Molly more than the Mousy Molly of the morgue.

“Just stay with me for a moment then you can retrieve the idiots to examine me.”

“If anyone is an idiot it is you. What were you thinking leaving your hospital bed just after major surgery?”

His eyes traveled over the woman’s frame. She had been sick. He could smell she had been vomiting that morning. She had brushed her teeth but the scent was still in her hair. She had also not been drinking her coffee this morning. No smell of coffee but herbal tea, non-caffeinated. She seemed nervous, something other than her concern for him was worrying her. She had been biting her nails. Her hands appeared she had started using extra care in washing them. If she was in fear of being ill by infection she wouldn’t be in the hospital room of a post op patient so she is ill from another noninfectious cause. An ailment that would cause her to be nervous and hyper aware of cleanliness. The engagement ring was gone, but she had been scratching at the finger it had been on. Something to do with what’s his name.

“How long Molly?”

She paused in her rant at him about endangering his life.

“How long what?” she asked knowing what he had just deduced about her.

“How long have you been pregnant?”

“About a month and half. I found out after I broke up with Tom.” She ducked her head.

Sherlock’s fingers twitched, his body reaching for her even though his mind was not acknowledging the movement.

“You of course will terminate it.”

Her head shot up and she glared at him. Her eyes darkened and as her lips thinned. Her anger boiled turning her pale complexion red.

“How could you say such a thing? You really are as heartless as they claim. Of course I’m going to keep her. Why wouldn’t I. I swear Sherlock you can be a right bastard sometimes. I hate you.” She turned to leave the room.

“Molly please stop. I’m sorry.” His voice quivered. “I didn’t think. Please forgive me. I feel like I’m always saying that to you. Please forgive me.” She turned back to face him. “I just was concerned that you are alone and it would be very difficult for you to raise a child by yourself. Does ah. . . Tom know?”

“No and I’m not telling him.”

“It is his child too, he has a right?”

“He lost that right when he said I wasn’t worth his time if I couldn’t get . . . it doesn’t matter what he said. He won’t be involved. I don’t want him involve.” Her eyes began to red with unshed tears.

“Molly, I know this sounds ridiculous with me helpless in this bed right now, but whatever I can do. I will be there to help you. I really did mean it when I said you mattered the most.”

Molly couldn’t help herself. Tears fell from her eyes and soaked into her hideous jumper.

“We’ll be fine Sherlock. But thank you. No one knows and I would like to keep it that way.”

“Whatever you wish.”

The hospital room door opened and John Watson walked in.

“Good morning Molly how’s our boy . . .” He looked over to see Sherlock awake and looking back at him. “Oh thank God, you’re awake.” He grabbed Molly and hugged her. John brought his hand up and wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry Molly, he’s come back to us. It will be okay now.”

“Yes it will John.” She said trying to swallow back her emotions.

“Molly, why don’t you go get the doctors like you said you wanted to. I’ll be here when you get back.” Sherlock said.

She looked over at the man and knew he would keep her secret.

“Yes Sherlock, anything you say.” She turned to leave as John beamed with happiness seeing his best friend awake.

“Molly thank you for being here when I woke up.”

She just nodded and left the room. Closing the door on the two men, listening to John’s excitement of having his friend back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I was away on vacation with out a computer. The covers the events in S3E3 therefore spoilers.

Chapter Two

Molly never returned to visit Sherlock while he was in the hospital. She couldn’t face him again. It was hard enough dealing with the idea of being pregnant and alone. She couldn’t handle his insincerity towards her too. More than ever she missed her father, Eddie. He had been her greatest defender and supporter. Especially after her mother abandoned them. Eddie Hooper had cheered her on through her uni days and when she went into medical school. He had been there for her through it all. Even keeping his illness from her till the very end. Eddie would be upset at her being unwed and pregnant, but he would support her decision to keep the baby and raise it herself. Molly needed someone like her father now, not Sherlock Holmes with his criticisms of her abilities and her status. No she did not need him.

Sherlock waited for Molly to return, when she didn’t, he texted her the day before he was discharged. Sherlock told her he would be spending Christmas day with his parents and wished she would come and see him on Christmas Eve. She didn’t respond.

He sat in his mother’s kitchen listening to Mummy prattled on about Mycroft leaving his laptop on her prep table. He wondered where Molly was today. Sherlock knew she didn’t have any family per say. Her father had died many years ago and she was estranged from her mother and brother. Maybe she was at work. An image of her standing over an autopsy table came to mind. Her long brown hair pulled back and under a surgeon’s cap, while she was dressed in ill-fitting scrubs.

Sherlock tried to concentrate on his plans for later that day, but Molly kept slipping back into mind. He needed to focus Magnussen and protecting John and Mary. Sherlock watched as Wiggins prepared everyone’s Christmas punch. A smirk played at the corners of his lips. He sat and waited, his mind skipping back to Molly. If tonight went as planned, he would never be able to see her again. There was an awkward pain he had never felt before moving through his body.

“Sherlock! Sherlock Mary’s sick!” John shouted from the parlor. Sherlock and Wiggins stepped into the room and helped John lay his wife down on the couch. Sherlock carefully covered the woman with a throw.

“Don’t worry John, Wiggins knows what he is doing. Now we must go. We only have a few hours.”

Confused John followed his friend. By the end of the evening the doctor had run the gambit of emotions from fear to anger to astonishment to despair. His wife was safe but his friend was now lost to him. Sherlock had committed an unprovoked murder in front of dozens of witnesses. There was no hope of saving him now.

John watched as his friend saved his wife by sacrificing himself. Mary and baby would be safe. The three of them would have a life together. Sherlock made sure he had kept his last vow to John.

The doctor stood by dumbstruck as his best friend was handcuffed and pulled away from him. The man’s older brother watching in disbelief. Fear written across Mycroft’s face.

Three days later, John stood with his best friend at a private airstrip saying goodbye again. Mycroft had saved his brother from prison but not from death. The two friends shook hands and said their final goodbyes.

Then all hell broke out.

The bastard had returned from the dead to taunt them again. Somehow he had commandeered every video transmitting device in the nation to broadcast his face.

“Miss me? Miss me?” Kept replaying over and over again.

The electrical charge of fear ran down Mycroft’s body as he watched the broadcast. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. But there the mad man was for all to see.

Sherlock’s plane made an abrupt return to the private airstrip and landed. Sherlock stormed off the plane to accuse his brother of behaving childishly, when the elder Holmes played a recording of Moriarty to him.

Sherlock attention narrowed as he scanned every portion of the video. Moriarty was not live but an animated photos. Enough reality to instill fear in those who really knew him. Those he had touched, been in contract with during his insane game of cat and mouse with Sherlock. The names skipped rapidly through Sherlock’s brain; John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly.

“Molly! We’ve got to get to Molly now. He’ll know she helped me. He’ll go after her first.”

Anthea was already texting on her Blackberry as Sherlock jumped into the backseat of Mycroft’s car, joining Mycroft. The detective pulled his mobile out and rapidly started sending off texts to Molly and Lestrade. He hoped the detective inspector was closer to Molly’s flat than they were.

*****

Greg Lestrade was sitting in his office when Donovan yelled at him to come out to the bull pen. The man stood groaning with work weary muscles and moved slowly to the door of his office.

“Sally what the bloody hell is wrong now.”

The dark skinned woman said nothing but pointed to the television screen showing the caricature of Moriarty repeating his question over and over again.

“Miss me? Miss me?”

“Buggering fuck.” Lestrade hissed. “Donovan get hold of the television stations and find out how he did that. Dimmit cancel all leaves and pull everyone back in. Get the commander on the horn now.” He felt his mobile buzz in his pocket as he was shouting orders. Reaching for it, he saw he had a text from Sherlock. “Bloody hell just what I need now.” He opened the text, read it, and then took off running.

“Donovan with me!” he shouted as he flew out of the detective’s room and down to his parked car.

Lestrade drove like a mad man through traffic, shouting at Donovan to try and locate Molly Hooper. The sergeant called St Bart’s only to be told the woman had left half an hour earlier. Molly’s mobile was going directly to voicemail and she was not responding to any of the texts Donavan was sending her.

Lestrade turned his sedan down the street where Molly’s flat block was located when he saw the small woman step out of a corner Tesco with a single shopping bag in her hands. He slammed on the brakes and the tires screeched on the tarmac as the car careened to a stop. Angled part way out into traffic.

Molly stood with a shock look on her face as she watched Lestrade and Donovan leap from the vehicle and rush over to her. Lestrade wrapped his arms around her shoulders and used his broader body to shield her as he pulled her to the car. Donavan stood scanned the crowds for any suspicious individuals watching them.

A man from the Tesco came out and shouted he had called the police. A crowd gathered as he shouted for Lestrade to let go of Molly. Donovan pulled back her jacket and showed her badge attached to her belt. The crowd backed further away from the three people when the explosion took place.

It was loud and knocked Lestrade and Molly off their feet. The air filled with debris and brick dust as the flat block was exploded out. Molly looked up to see her flat disappeared in the cacophony of sound and light.

“Fuck,” Greg shouted covering Molly’s body with his. He slowly raised his head. “Sally, where are you?”

The woman officer was coughing as she struggled to her feet. The man from Tesco was unconscious as blood seeped from a head wound.

“Gov. What happened?”

“Moriarty.” The single word from the DI’s mouth chilled Molly’s blood. Lestrade looked down at Molly underneath him. “Molly are you alright.” Unable to speak, she just nodded. The officer stood and slowly pulled Molly to her feet. “Sally call everyone in. This is going to be one fucking bad day.”

Donovan slipped into the front seat of the car and used the radio to notify headquarters of the explosion and injuries. Lestrade bent over the man from Tesco and checked his pulse.

“Molly I think he may need your expertise instead of mine.” Greg looked over at the scared young woman. When Molly looked down at the bleeding man, she immediately jumped to her senses and moved to give him aid. She pulled a roll a paper towels from her shopping bag and started to ebb the flow of blood.

Molly let her eyes look up and around her. She saw numerous people injured. Many seriously. She saw the remains of her building. Half three story brick building was practically leveled. Part of the building stood, leaning precariously next to a pile of rubble and spraying water and smoke. The buildings on the opposite side of the street had their windows blow out. Bricks and lumber had become projectiles and were flung into cars and walls and unfortunately, people. As the ringing in her ears finally eased off some, she could hear people screaming and begging for help. The street looked like a war zone.

Suddenly a large black limo pulled up next to Lestrade’s car and stopped. Sherlock leaped from the back of the car and rushed over to the kneeling woman. Sherlock’s large hands grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up onto her feet.

“Molly are you alright!?” He didn’t wait for and answer but started running his hands down her arms and sides checking for injuries. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!”

“Yes! Yes!”

“What about the . . .” Before he could finish the question Molly covered his mouth with her hand. Frustrated he pulled it away. “Molly the . . .”

This time to shut him up before he said the word ‘baby’, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Sherlock stunned by the woman, tried to pull back, but her arms kept her close to him. She kept her lips tight against his mouth so he could only mumble into hers.

Unconsciously, his arms moved without his realization and encircled her back. When she felt him pull her closer to him, she pulled back from the kiss and looked straight into his eyes. Warning him as he stared back at her in confusion.

“Sherlock, I’m alright. I promise.” She whispered. He slowly let his arms drop to his side as she pulled further away from him. He nodded his understanding and turned to Lestrade.

The DI and Mycroft stood with their mouths agape as they watched the kiss and exchange between Molly and Sherlock.

Sherlock cleared his throat and overted his eyes not to look directly at his brother. “Lestrade, we’ve got to get Molly out of her. She was the target.”

“Okay, I’ll take her to the yard. Protective custody.”

“No, that won’t work” He shoved his hands into the pockets of the black coat. “Baker Street will be safer. List her as one of the killed. It will give us time.”

“WHAT?!” Molly shouted, as Sherlock pulled his hand from his pocket and wrapped it around Molly’s elbow.

“Okay,” Lestrade answered ignoring Molly’s protests.

“Anthea will be handling the press.” Mycroft said as he stepped back and opened the rear door of his car. Sherlock pulled Molly into the backseat of the car. Mycroft smiled and winked at Lestrade before he too climbed into the limo. The back seat was now tight, and Sherlock shifted Molly so she was sitting in his lap as the car drove to Baker Street.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sherlock sat at his desk reviewing the tape of Moriarty’s message over and over again. He had turned the volume down after he noticed how the man’s voice made Molly jump. He tried to covertly observe her as she sat still on his couch. Her hair still dirty from the explosion, her clothes rumpled.

She sat very still staring off into space. Her eyes dull and listless. She hadn’t said a word since they had arrived at Baker Street and he was beginning to worry about her mental status.

“It won’t work you know.” She said softly.

He sat up straight staring ahead of him. “Of course it will. It is what is best.”

“I won’t let it work.”

He turned to look at her. Her face was set and firm. Her lips thinned and determined.

“Molly?”

“I won’t let him scare me away from my life. I won’t play dead and hide from him.” She said in a quivering voice that betrayed her fear.

“Molly, I need you to . . .”

“Sherlock, I have always done what you asked, but I will not, cannot do this. I won’t run away.” She reached into her pocket of the coat she was still wore and pulled out her mobile. Before Sherlock could rush over to her, she called Mike Stafford and spoke to him.

Sherlock stood over her glaring as she told Mike that yes her flat had been blown up but she was not dead as reported in the press. She was fine.

Sherlock pulled the phone roughly from her hands.

“Mike, this is Sherlock. Molly will need several days off. If you need to get in touch with her, contact me.” He disconnected the line before Mike could ask any questions. He pocketed her phone. “Molly what were you thinking. I needed you to stay under his radar. Now you are a target.”

“Then it will be easier for you to find him when he comes after me.” Her voice had a shrill quality of fear to it. Her adrenaline running fast through her blood stream and her nerves jumping under her skin. “I will not hide.”

“But what about your child?”

“I will keep us safe.”

“How?” he snapped back at her.

“I will!”

The two stared angrily at each other when they heard the front door of the 221 Baker Street open. The heavy foot fall of Detective Inspector Lestrade climbing the steps announced his arrival.

The gray haired officer stood in the door way and appraised the scene in front of him. Neither Molly nor Sherlock acknowledged his presence but instead remained fixed in angry stares at the each other. The police man cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry Molly, the fire department said everything is a loss. Three of your neighbors were killed. The building is barely standing. We can’t even get up the stairs to see how much if there anything left in your flat worth saving.”

She turned and looked at him. Her face paled and she began to shake.

“Who died?”

“The elderly couple below your flat and the man who lived in the back flat on the ground floor. It wasn’t Moriarty. It really was an accident.”

Sherlock stared dumbfounded as tears rolled down Molly’s face. The images of the elderly couple came to her mind and their smiles and laughter.

“Accident?” Sherlock hissed.

“Yes. The landlord said the couple had been complaining of the smell of gas earlier in the day. The flat in the back apparently had a leak and when the man came home and turned on his stove for dinner the whole place blew. There is nothing left we can save for you.”

“But my books, I need my books. My photos, my father’s photo. Oh please Greg, I can’t . . . I need my father’s photo.” She collapsed on the couch crying. Her whole body shaking with agony.

Lestrade moved quickly over and pulled Molly back up to sit. He wrapped his arms around the woman and pulled her to his shoulder. Her body racked with tears at the loss of life as well as her world.

“I need those photos, how else can I tell . . .” she gasped between sobs.

“Shush Molly, it will be alright. We’ll get what we can, please just . . . shush.” Lestrade said softly into her hair as he gently rocked her in his arms.

Sherlock stood and watched the police officer comfort her. There was an unexplained pull in Sherlock’s chest.

“Lestrade . . .”

“Not now Sherlock.” The DI admonished the man. “Just leave her alone.” He waved Sherlock away.

Frustration moved quickly through Sherlock as he watched the two people on the couch. He couldn’t understand why he was bothered at being sent away. In the past he never wanted to deal with emotional women. He found them tedious and boring, but when he saw Molly falling apart in front of him, her small frame shaking with fear and pain, he wanted be the one to hold her. To comfort her. He had feigned comforting others, but now he wanted to actually be the one who she turned too.

Lestrade looked up over her head and glared at the detective.

“Sherlock, just give her some peace.” He said. His soft brown eyes betraying his frustration with the younger man.

Sherlock turned and reached for his coat. He flung the massive black thing on as he rushed from his own flat. Fleeing from Lestrade’s glare and Molly’s tears. His feet skidded down the steps. As he reached the door handle to disappear into the night, he paused. He turned and went to Mrs. Hudson’s door. He knocked and the petite woman open the door slowly. A chain barred entrance into her flat.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson. If you please, Molly is upstairs. She has been through a shock.”

“Oh we all have.” The woman interrupted him. “That evil man is back. Oh please be careful.”

“Yes, well. Molly would do with some of your marvelous tea please.”

“I’m your landlady not your housekeeper, but just this one time dear. Poor thing, is she alright?” Mrs. Hudson closed the door slightly to remove the chain and open it further to Sherlock.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade is with her now. She will be needing the tea soon.”

He turned and left the older woman standing alone. Sherlock moved silently through the streets. His eyes watching and waiting for one of his homeless network. He walked through the city to the streets near the park. A young woman singing while holding a sign and shaking a small cup.

The sign on a cardboard said ‘Homeless and hungry’. He dropped a ten pound note in the cup with a small note attached and winked at her. She nodded softly and kept up her singing.

An hour later, Sherlock found himself standing across the street from Molly’s destroyed flat building. The police had dismantled the large flood lights that had been placed in front of the wrecked building as they searched inside for more injured or dead. Having given up their search, they now packed away their rescue equipment and stationed a few PC to watch over the building.

Sherlock hugged the shadows and moved slowly to the side of the building, avoiding the PC’s as he made his way into the wreckage. He stepped carefully over timbers and bricks as he carefully climbed the stairs to the remains of Molly’s flat. The stairs tilted awkwardly to the side and groaned under his weight. Her flat had been in the front of the building and was mostly destroyed by the blast. The sitting room was really the only room still recognizable. Her bedroom and kitchen had been torn away and now lay in the rubble that cascaded out into the street.

Slowly Sherlock looked around the remains of the sitting room. His small torch held close to his head and moved along with his gaze. Molly had said something about her books and photos. He kept looking trying to deduce what was so important about those things.

A flash of light shone back at him as the torch light passed over broken glass. He bent down and found a shattered picture frame with two people in a photo. Sherlock carefully picked it up and shook the broken glass out of the frame. He looked at the photo closely. It was Molly at her graduation, standing beside her an older man. Molly had the bright happy smile he always noticed she had before. Sherlock set the photo a side and kept looking.

The books scattered around the floor were nothing of remarkable note. Medical textbooks and a few novels by Austen and Bronte. Then he noticed a college composition book used for essays. He squatted down and noticed several other composition books. He picked one up and opened it. The hand writing was familiar but smooth and precise.

_“My first month at uni was scary. I have found chemistry and anatomy to be my favorite classes so far. I have high hopes for myself.”_

He read a few more lines realizing it was Molly’s journal from her days at school. He picked up an older looking composition book. The cover torn and worn. The hand writing inside of a child.

_“My name is Mary Margret Hooper. I am six years old.”_

Sherlock started gathering the composition books together. He would read the first and last few lines in each book to make sure he had them in order. He found one book hanging precariously by the edge of the room just before falling to the ground below. He opened it and found the familiar scratchy handwriting of Molly. Years of uni and medical school having destroyed the perfect handwriting he found in the first book.

_“Sherlock deduced I’m pregnant today. He wanted me to get rid of the child I just yelled at him. How could he be so heartless?”_

He didn’t want to read any more.

He found a torn curtain on the floor and carefully put the twenty-four journals he found in the cloth. Then a single book caught his attention. ‘The Lost World’ by A. C. Doyle. An adventure book. Sherlock looked around the ruined flat. Every other novel was a romance novel. He picked it up and opened the book. The cover page had writing on it.

_To my darling Edward, love Mother._

Sherlock paused looking down at the book. Edward. Edward, Eddie, Eddie Hooper. It was Molly’s father’s book. He slipped the photo he found in the novel and set the book with the journal he had found. He carefully knotted the fabric together and picked up the bundle. He looked like a hobo with his belongings tied in a sack.

Slowly he made his way back down the damaged steps and hid in the shadows as the PC’s passed by the front of the building. Once they had moved on, he dashed into the street and into the allies creeping back to Baker Street.

As he opened his front door, he was greeted by Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh Sherlock, that poor dear upstairs. I did as you asked and brought her some tea. Then I made her take a shower. I’m washing her clothes. I hope you don’t mind, she had nothing to wear. I gave her a pair of pajamas to wear.”

He raised his chin slightly. He didn’t like the idea of Mrs. Hudson rummaging around in is clothes, then the idea of Molly upstairs dressed in his pj’s flooded into his mind.

“It’s alright Mrs. Hudson. Has Lestrade left?”

“Oh yes an hour ago.”

He bounded up the stairs, as she shouted after him, “Molly’s clothes would be clean in the morning for her.”

He stepped over the threshold of his flat and saw the small woman asleep on his couch. She was dressed in one of his old faded t-shirts, but not the pajama bottoms he was expecting. Her small frame was wrapped in his blue silk robe as she rested her damp head on her hands. One leg was exposed and free from underneath the blue silk. Her long thin calf and thigh were visible to Sherlock. They were pale and smooth like marble.

Suddenly, he could feel a strange pull low in his abdomen as his muscles flexed unconsciously in his thighs and arse. He noticed his mouth was watering and he felt oddly warm. He stood silently watching the woman sleep, studying how her face was now smooth and young looking. Without the lines and the frown from before.

She mewed softly and he found himself moving towards her at the sound.

“Molly?” he whispered. She mewed again. “Molly, I have something for you.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she made a small gasp when she realized he was standing over her.

“Sherlock?”

“Molly, I found something for you.” He said softly as he set the bundle on the table in front of her.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. He sat down on the coffee table in front of her and untied the fabric. The journals and the novel sat silently before her. Molly’s eyes flew open wide. Her hand quickly covered her mouth as she gasped.

“How?!” She mumbled.

“I went to your flat. I believe I found all but two of your journals. And I found this.” He picked up the novel and handed it over to her. She slowly opened it and saw the photo of her father and herself. A sob racked her body.

Sherlock moved quickly to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her as Lestrade had done earlier.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would make you happy.” He whispered.

“Sherlock, I thought I had . . . Oh Sherlock, thank you. Thank you.” She hugged him tightly. Tears streaming down her face as she cried.

He lifted her slightly and pulled her into his lap. Then he gently rocked her as she cried, holding the photo close to her. He held and rocked her, cooing softly as one would to calm a child. He didn’t even stop though he knew she had fallen asleep again in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and enjoyed


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crime scene discussed in this chapter and start of a case.

Chapter Four

In the last two months, Molly dreamed often of the last days with Tom. She laid in the bed, deeply asleep, the soft sheets and the warmth of the duvet surrounded her. The woman’s mind traveled back to that fateful night.

_It was John and Mary’s wedding. Everyone was happy after Sherlock and John had saved the colonel’s life. It was exciting to watch as Sherlock deduced what had happened and let everyone watch him as he swiftly discover the would-be murderer. Then the elegance of Sherlock’s gift to the Watsons. The music he composed for them and played for their first dance together. Who knew the man could be so romantic. She almost cried watching the bride and groom kiss after the song ended. It was perfect._

_The DJ started to play the music and people started dancing. Tom brought her more champagne to drink as she watched Sherlock. His eyes downcast, his shoulders slumped. The smile on his face was strained as he left the ball room and disappeared into the night. Molly wanted to go after him, but Tom pushed another glass of wine into her hand. Then another._

_They spent the night in the hotel where the wedding took place. They made love in the ornate room with the brass bed. She moaned as he moved over her, filling her, pleasing her. When he was done he pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. Her mind full of alcohol and pleasure. She was drowsy and uninhibited._

_Burrowing into his chest she sighed and whispered, “I love you Sherlock.”_

_He tensed and lifted his head. “Molly what did you say?”_

_“Sherlock I love you.” Her eyes closed and her mind slipped rapidly into sleep._

_When she awoke she was alone. A note on the night stand written in the early morning hours told her Tom never wanted to see her again. She wasn’t worth his time if she couldn’t get over the insane man she had a crush on. She sat in the rumbled sheets of the bed, still scented with their lovemaking, and cried._

_******_

She moved from her dream world slowly to the world of reality. A soft voice calling her name. A calm, reassuring voice. A female voice. Molly’s eyes fluttered open to see the round impish face of Mary Watson looking down at her.

“Morning sleepy head. Time to get up.” Mary had a broad smile on her face. Her pregnant belly obvious to see.

Molly carefully sat up rubbing her eyes to look around the unfamiliar room. The bed was large, queen size. The walls were beige and books were everywhere. On one wall she noticed a Periodic Table. She thought what nut would have a Periodic Table on their wall, then she knew. She paled rapidly and pulled the duvet high to her neck.

Mary laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he even slept. He’s been working all night out in the sitting room. We came over first thing this morning and you were asleep alone in here.”

It unnerved Molly to think Mary could read her as easily as Sherlock could. Mary continued.

“Mrs. Hudson just brought up your clothes. They are clean and ready for you to put them on. I have breakfast waiting for you. Hurry up and join us.” Mary patted Molly’s leg under the covers and stood, leaving the woman alone.

Molly dressed and stepped out of Sherlock’s bedroom and into the kitchen. As promised a full English fry up was waiting for her. She took one look at the fry food and her stomach revolted. Molly dashed to the bathroom to throw up.

Mary and John looked over at Sherlock concerned. The detective’s eyes followed Molly as she slammed the closed door, then announced to his friends she was still upset about the explosion. Mary took it at face value, but John gave Sherlock a sideways glance. The two men sharing a private silent conversation.

“John, Molly might appreciate some ginger tea instead of coffee this morning. If you don’t mind.” He said as he walked pass the breakfast meal, snagging a piece of toast from a plate as he did. He moved into the sitting room in front of the couch and studied the map of London he had pinned to the wall. Various photo and newspaper articles were pinned beside the map.

Minutes later Molly stepped out of the bathroom and apologized for fleeing. Mary wrapped her arms around Molly and told her it was to be expected. Molly sat down and stared at the food, unable to build up the courage to take a bite.

She leaned back in her chair and took the offered cup of tea from John when she realized there was a fifth person in the flat.

The young man was scruffy and dirty. His blond hair was matted and his eyes were deep set. So deep set she couldn’t be certain of their color. His face was narrow with a pointy noise. In total, he reminded Molly of a weasel. Her eyes grew wide in fear at his presence.

“Oh Molly, you’ve never met Wiggins.” Sherlock walked back into the kitchen and snagged a piece of bacon from her plate. “Wiggins, this is Dr. Hooper. She will be staying with me for awhile. Don’t talk to her.”

Molly’s brow wrinkled at that comment.

“Wiggins works for me, Molly. He is part of my homeless network.” He turned back to the scruffy man. “I need more information. Wiggins, here is a twenty pound note. Let everyone know that there will be more for any good information they bring you. You will bring it to me.”

“Okay gov. She been sick long?”

“Wiggins, leave now.” Sherlock glared at the young man. Wiggins nodded to Sherlock and left the flat. Sherlock turned and returned to his mosaic on the wall. John stood beside his friend staring at the photos and map in confusion. Moriarty’s name was not mentioned in any of the newspaper articles. He wasn’t pictured in any of the photos.

“Sherlock, I don’t understand what you’re doing?”

“John don’t be so dull. Moriarty is not going to just pop up for the world to see.”

“But he already did, the broadcast.” John said shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Did he? What did we actually see? A few short snippets of the man repeating himself. Did you noticed he was wearing the same suit he wore the day he was released from prison after the trial? Did you noticed the clip matched a television clip of his on that very same day?” Sherlock said waving his hands at the wall. “He’s not really back. We are being made to think he is back. We’re being tricked.”

“Seriously? Who?” John moved forward to look at the window. “Who would do that to us, to England?”

“That’s the question John, who indeed.” Sherlock turned and marched into the kitchen. Molly was sitting slowly drinking her ginger tea as Mary sat across from her. “Mary, Molly is going to need new things. Clothes and the like. Here is my bank card. Take care of whatever she needs please. I’m sure John will have cleared his things out of the room upstairs for Molly by the time you return.” He handed over his bank card to the woman who took it smiling.

“What!?” Molly practically shrieked.

Mary leaned across the table and patted her hand. “Molly dear when a man agrees to buy you a new wardrobe, question their motives unless it’s Sherlock Holmes. You know his motives are never nefarious.” Mary smiled as John laughed. Sherlock knitted his brow in confusion at his friends.

Molly nodded in agreement and stood up to grab her coat. “Thank you Sherlock, but I can buy myself new clothes. And I can get myself my own flat.”

“You’ll need somewhere to stay until you do, why not upstairs in John’s old room.”

“Don’t worry Molly, I’ll have the room fixed up for you when you return.” John said nodding to the smaller woman.

“Thank you John, thank you everyone. I do appreciate what you have done for me.” She looked up into Sherlock’s mercurial eyes. “Especially you Sherlock.” She whispered. She slipped on her coat and moved toward the stairs.

Sherlock leaned into Mary to kiss her cheek good bye.

“Are you armed?” He whispered.

“Always.” She smiled back at him.

“That’s my girl. Good. Hurry back.” Then she went to kiss her husband goodbye. Sherlock turned and called after Molly. “Molly text me when you get back to the flat. I’ll tell you what I’m hungry for and you can get something delivered.”

All three people turned back to Sherlock and stared at him for a moment before the two women left.

John stood close to his friend. “That didn’t fool anyone. Just ask her to check in with you when she returns.”

Sherlock turned and looked at his friend with all the feigned innocence he could achieve. “I have no idea what you are talking about John.”

The man smiled at Sherlock. “Honestly, your acting skills have deteriorated while you were gone.” John ran up the stairs to his old room taking the steps two at a time. Sherlock took the last piece of bacon from Molly’s untouched breakfast and returned to the sitting room to stare at the London map.

Within twenty minutes, John walked down the stairs carrying down his second box from his old room.

“That’s everything. Thanks again Sherlock for helping me through that difficult time with Mary.” John said avoiding to look at his friend. The two men never really spoke of the time between John discovery of Mary’s betrayal and his forgiveness of her. Most of that time Sherlock had been in the hospital. John had stayed at Baker Street and tried to understand what had happened, and who he had married. When Sherlock had been released from the hospital, he gave John the time and space to work through his confusion while still being there to talk to. He was everything John needed him to be.

Sherlock gave John a quick small smile. The type of smile that was reserved for those who truly knew the detective. The smile that truthfully only John ever saw.

“Perfect timing John, Lestrade just texted. We have a case.” And just as quickly the two friends were off again leaving the boxes sitting on the kitchen table next to the cold food from breakfast.

*****

The blue and white police tape blocked off the north and south sides of the Victoria Embankment in front of the Ministry of Defense. The trees shed of their leaves were unable to block the view of the police as they scoured the area along the park.

Sherlock and John were escorted to the tent set up over the dead body. Donavan pulled back the tent edge to allow the two men to enter. Lestrade and Anderson stood over the young man’s body. He was dressed in military fatigues and combat boots. A tightness encircled John’s chest looking down at the dead man. More like a boy. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.

“Private Sheldon Newton was walking with his girlfriend along the embankment last night when he was shot.” Lestrade said to the two men as they looked down at the corpse. “No one saw anything. Girlfriend said he fell as she heard the shot.”

Sherlock bent over the body and looked at the man’s clothing and his injuries. Moving quickly from one side to the other categorizing as he went. “John?”

The doctor swallowed hard and stepped forward. “He was shot at a distance. Sniper.”

“You sure?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock stood and moved back away from the body.

“Yes, I’ve seen the same injury in Afghanistan. He was shot in the back. The round didn’t appear to fragment and went through. Have you found the bullet yet?”

“We haven’t even rolled him over.” Anderson hissed. “How do you know that’s an exit wound on his chest?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen it before.”

Lestrade and Anderson rolled the body over and at the center of his back between his two shoulder blades was a tear in the fabric and blood staining the cloth. The hole was small in comparison to the one in his chest.

“I believe we are looking for 762x54 caliber weapon.” Sherlock said as he threw open the tent cover and stepped out into the bright winter sun. John followed close behind.

“That’s quite a large weapon. Not easy to hide in a crowd.” John said.

“Captain Watson, where do you suppose a sniper would have his nest given the area surrounding us and the downward movement of the bullet?” Sherlock said buttoning his black coat close.

John looked around at the white government buildings surrounding them to the west. “Up there somewhere.” He looked back at the body then back up at the buildings. “The roof of the second one down.”

“Very good let’s go.”

“Wait a minute Sherlock. If that is a crime scene up there you need to wait for us to go in first.” Lestrade said.

“Why and wait for your imbeciles to destroy any evidence I could glean. I think not.” He started to walk off.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade warned.

“Alright come along with us.” The three men walked down the pavement to the building’s entrance. Lestrade showed his identification to the Royal Marine guarding the door of the MOD.

“Sherlock, this can’t be right. How could a shooter get in and out of here?” Lestrade whispered as they were being escorted to the roof by a guard.

“With a great amount of skill and daring. Not our usual criminal.”

The men came up on to the roof of the building and stood back as Sherlock searched the area towards the low parapet looking out over the river. He knelt down and using his magnifying glass he found his precious clue. “Quick, come here.”

Lestrade and John moved over to where Sherlock was carefully scooping up ash in to a paper envelope.

“Ash, cigarette butt?” Lestrade asked in disgust.

“Yes, very special ash.” Sherlock stood and pointed over the parapet edge. “And if you look over there you will see where the marks of a shooter’s tripod on the granite edging. He policed his brass, but I think you’ll find other trace evidence up here.

Lestrade tapped his mobile to call his forensic team up to the roof. As Sherlock turned to leave.

“Where are you going? I want that cigarette butt for DNA.”

“St Bart’s, I need to test this ash. I believe it will lead me to your sniper.” Sherlock said as he swiftly moved towards the door. His black coat catching the wind as he pulled his mobile from his pocket.

_Molly you’re needed at Barts. Meet me there. SH_

He smiled as he headed down the stairs, with John quickly on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and suggestions. It has been very encouraging.

Chapter Five

Molly had the gas chromatography print out in her hand, she read the spikes but it was far too confusing for her. Of course there were the spikes for tar and nicotine of the tobacco and cellulose for the paper but there was a long chain polymer of N-acetyl glucosamine. She cocked her head to the side believing she made a mistake and set the results aside to set up a second sample to be run through the machine.

Sherlock was busy at his microscope sifting through some of the ash as Molly came to take another sample.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“The first sample was contaminated. I need to repeat the test.”

“Contaminated with what?” Sherlock asked pulling his head away from the microscope oculars.

“A glucose derivative.”

“Chitin?”

Molly stopped and looked at him. Yes, N-acetyl glucosamine was also known as Chitin. But why would he be expecting that in cigarette ash.

“Yes. Why is it there?”

“Insects.”

“IN CIGARETTES?!” Molly gasped.

Sherlock smiled at her. The smile that told her she just said something that he will be able to use to show how much more intelligent he was to the rest of the world.

“The quality of cigarette manufacturing differs throughout the world. Some countries are not as strict as to the amount of insect carcass and insect larvae that is included in the finish cut and prepared tobacco for cigarette production. Counties in Africa have the highest contamination rates.”

Molly just stood there with her mouth hanging open. The idea smoking tobacco anyway was revolting to the doctor, but the idea of smoking tobacco and bits of dead bugs even more so. She slapped her mouth shut as she noticed Sherlock looking at her with a smudge smile on his face. It infuriated her when he did that.

“So that tells you what?” she asked.

“Our shooter is a connoisseur of rare tobacco. This tobacco has a higher nicotine content.” Sherlock said as he turned back to his microscope. He noticed how she talked to him now. She did not stutter any more around him. She was self-assured if ignorant of simple facts about ash. He reminded himself that he would have her read his monograph on the subject.

“Maybe he’s just cheap and bought bad cigarettes.” She offered in return. There it was again, the confidence. He was enjoying it. His mind slipped back to the day they had worked together investigating. She started out nervous and shy but by the end of the day she was giving her own assessments of evidence and sharing knowing looks with him when some idiot made some stupid comment. He knew by the end of the day, Mousy Molly was gone and replaced by a confident Dr. Molly Hooper.

“No, these cigarettes are not imported.” He continued as he grabbed the thread of the conversation back. “He had to obtain them in Africa, probably South Africa.”

“South Africa?”

“This fragment of paper has a trademark to a South African brand.” He pointed to the slide on the scope. “Also, these cigarettes do not have filters. They are hand made for the smoker.”

“You’re telling me someone paid extra for tobacco with bugs in it?” Molly glared at Sherlock as she slipped her hands on her hips. “Why? Why buy expensive cigarettes in South Africa when you can get cheap ones down at the store.”

“Because my dear Molly, he is not from here. He’s from South Africa.”

The door of the lab opened and a tall man in a dark over coat stepped in. His pale elongated face with auburn hair mussed by the wind outside looked around the room till his eyes settled on Molly.

“Tom?!” Molly rasped. Sherlock stood rapidly from his seat but moved neither closer to Molly nor to the intruder. John who had been sitting in the corner ignoring the two as they work, was now also on his feet too. Unsure as to what was the problem but ready to jump in.

“Molly they said you were dead in the papers!” He moved closer towards her. Molly backed away. “Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were safe? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

“You said you didn’t want to see me again, Tom.” She moved farther away. John saw the fear in the woman’s eyes as Sherlock bristled by his presence.

“Molly, how could you think that I wouldn’t care about you? I asked you to marry me remember. Even if you couldn’t . . .”

She closed her eyes knitting her brow as she squeezed her hands into fists.

“I remember you asked me to marry you and I remember you left me. Okay, I’m alive, I’m fine. Please leave now.” The room was closing in on her and she was began to breathe rapidly.

John took a step forward and moved to intercept Tom. Sherlock stepped towards Molly.

“Molly please can we go somewhere and talk in private.” His eyes moved between the two men. “Alone.”

Sherlock’s eyes flashed with anger. He hated this man, he didn’t want him anywhere near his pathologist.

“No Tom, we have nothing to say to each other. You see I’m fine.”

“Molly please.” Tom begged.

Sherlock could see Molly’s shoulders sag and her head fall forward. Her body slumped in surrendered. Sherlock gritted his teeth but knew he couldn’t stop her.

“Alright, I guess we can get a cup of coffee together. We need to talk anyway.” She stepped around the equipment and moved toward the door. John reached out for her, but she just patted his arm and moved to stand next to Tom. The tall man opened the door and held it for her.

“Molly, please remember to order us some Indian food for when we get back to the flat tonight. I think that would be delicious before we go to bed. Don’t you?” Sherlock call out after her.

Molly froze in the doorway. John turned towards his friend, his face in utter shock. Tom on the other hand, was turning red in the face. Molly slowly turned to look at Sherlock who was now busy focused on reading the printout from the GLC. A smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re fucking living with him already?!” Tom shouted at Molly. “We just broke up two months ago and you’re fucking living him?!”

John rushed and pulled Molly away from the angry man. He pulled Molly back into the lab and pushed her behind him.

“Tom I think you better leave now.” John said in his authoritative Captain’s voice.

“The little bitch is living with the psychopath!” Tom shouted.

“Sociopath.” Sherlock said from the other side of the room.

“SHERLOCK!” John shouted at his friend. He turned back and squared his body to the man who was six inches taller than him. “Tom leave now or I’m calling security.”

“I’m leaving and good riddance to the little whore! Who needs her anyway!” He slammed the door as he left the room.

John moved quickly to wrap Molly in a hug as he glared at his friend.

“Damn it Sherlock, what was that all about?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you mean?”

Molly pulled out John’s arms. She was shaking as tears slid down her cheeks.

“You made it sound like we were living together, Sherlock.” Her lips thinned and frowned.

“We are living together. We are sharing the same flat.”

“You know what I mean. He thinks we are involved. Why did you do that?” Molly couldn’t say anymore. She turned and buried her face into John’s shirt and cried.

Sherlock felt a spike in his chest from nowhere. It hurt and he couldn’t understand why.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Tom will reappear again. And yes cigarettes have a lot of foreign debris in them. The poorest quality tobacco is used in snuff.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments. They encourage me to write faster.

Chapter Six

When Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street, he had the sack of Indian take away with him and a small wrapped present for Molly. He stepped into the sitting room and saw her coat hanging on the rack and her multi-colored scarf but the woman was not there.

He set the food down on the coffee table and went up the stairs to John’s old room, now Molly’s. He knocked softly on the closed door and waited for an answer. After silence, he knocked again.

“Molly, I brought food if you are interested.” No answer. “It’s from the Indian restaurant you like.” Again nothing. “You should eat, it would be best for the baby if you maintain a balance diet during your pregnancy.”

“Go away Sherlock.” Her voice was raspy with crying.

“Molly, I’m . . . I’m sorry if I embarrassed you today.” He rested his forehead on her door as he talked. His hands resting on the wood.

His apology was greeted with more silence.

“Molly I knew you didn’t want to talk to him. I thought it was the best way to remove him from your life.”

“Go away.”

“Do you want him back?” He noticed a pain in his chest.

The door flew open and she stared at him. “Of course I don’t want him back, but I didn’t expect you to tell everyone we are sleeping together!”

“I hardly think John and what’s his name counts as everyone. Besides I said nothing about sleeping together.”

“His name is Tom. TOM! And like it or not, unfortunately he will be involved in my life when he finds out about the baby. And you most certainly implied we were sleeping together.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Wouldn’t it be delicious before we went to bed!” she mimicked his voice and words back to him.

“Well, then he won’t question the paternity of the baby when she comes.” Sherlock offered. Molly slammed her door. Sherlock snapped his head back to keep it from being hit. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a huff and headed down the stairs rapidly. Down both flights till he was at the front door and out into the night. Leaving Molly alone in the flat.

Sherlock wandered the streets of London. Moving in and out of the shadows thinking. A hunger, a need was beginning to grow under his skin. Sherlock had not felt this anxious since he had quit using years ago, but he could feel the itch return. The want of heron to quite the mind, the need for cocaine to sharpen his perceptions. He felt it bloom and the want to take hold of his soul again.

He knew what he did was petty but he couldn’t help himself. Sherlock selfishly wanted Molly for himself he thought. Then the thought struck him awkwardly. Why would he need, let alone want Molly Hooper. Granted she was the only pathologist he could work with who did not irritate him with their stupidity. Yes, she was reasonably intelligent, above the usual fools he was surrounded by. And she was someone who willing stand up to him now. The strong slaps to his face a few months ago was proof of that.

He reached up and cradled his face where she had hit him weeks before. The slight sting remembered fondly. Sherlock smiled at the memory.

He moved further away from Baker Street and into the shadows of the city where honest people did not want to go. He knew he had to make this better for Molly. He had promised her he would. He would be there for her and the child. Somehow Sherlock would make this right for her. He just needed to think.

*****

Molly stepped out of her room and stood silently at the top of the stairs. She waited and listened to see if Sherlock was still in the flat. She thought she had heard him run down the stairs an hour earlier and there had been no noise since then. Slowly she stepped down the stairs ready to rush back up into her room if she saw him.

She stepped off the last step and saw the white paper sack on the table. The room smelling of cumin and curry spice. The room was silent and empty. She moved to look around the corner and into the kitchen, then down the hall to his bedroom. The flat was empty except for her.

Molly collapsed on the couch and stared at the white sack. She wasn’t hungry at all and the smell of the cold food was nauseating. She moved to take the sack to the refrigerator when she saw the small package wrapped in brown paper. It wasn’t very large and curiosity got the better of her. She pulled on the tape and pushed the paper back.

It was a picture frame. A small wooden frame like the one she had in her flat for the photograph of herself and her father at her graduation. Sherlock had gotten her a copy of the one she lost. She set it down back in the brown paper wrapper. Her hands were shaking. She felt her heart pound harder in her chest as more tears raced down her face.

Molly wondered if being pregnant was what was making her so emotional, then she realized it wasn’t the pregnancy but was Sherlock. He was driving her crazy. Why was Sherlock acting so possessive? One moment he was caring and kind. Finding her journals and saving her father’s photo, then Sherlock was telling Tom and John that they are sleeping together. Demanded she stay with him at Baker Street, then offered to buy her new clothes to replace the ones destroyed. What was he doing?

Molly sat and stared at the picture frame. Sherlock’s words running through her memory. _“Molly, whatever I can do, I will be there to help you. I really did mean it when I said you mattered the most.”_ It suddenly dawned on Molly that was what Sherlock was trying to do in his very Sherlock way of doing things. He was trying to help her.

She leaned back on the old couch as she rested her hand on her abdomen. Sherlock had tried to protect her. Her flat was destroyed and he was giving a place to live, he tried to provide for her and the baby. He knew she didn’t want Tom around so he did the one thing he knew would drive a permanent wedge between the two of them. Sherlock had become her knight in shiny black Belstaff coat. She laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

Molly laughed louder when she realized she was now deducing like Sherlock. She wondered what he would say to her as she sat on the couch and had finally caught up to what was happening. Would he chastise her for being so slow or would he deny what he was doing because he was above sentiment?

Molly stood up and picked up the sack of cold take away. She set it in the refrigerator on the shelf above the eyeballs she had supplied him earlier. Then she went and retrieved the picture frame. She promised herself that tomorrow she would not cry. Tomorrow she would settle things with Sherlock.

*****

It was dawn when Sherlock returned to the flat. He had spent part of the night with Wiggins who had some information for him. But nothing Sherlock felt important to his investigations.

He was as quite as he could be as he entered the flat. He never gave John that consideration, but he was self-conscious of treating Molly with it. It frustrated him. Anger flared in him when he realized he was having to be considerate with in his own flat, his own domain for Molly.

He decided he would not be considerate any longer as he grabbed his violin. Then spinning around to start playing loudly he noticed the picture frame he had bought for Molly. The photograph of Molly and her father was already in it. It sat silently on the mantle next to the skull. Molly was smiling out from the photo and right at him. He set his violin down and gently let his finger stroke down the edge of the frame. His anger bled away by the smile on her face. The corner of his mouth quickly curled briefly, then reset in its normal place.

He sat in his chair and steeple his finger’s under his chin. He tried to retreat into his mind palace but his eyes kept moving back to the photograph on the mantle and woman smiling down at him. It was seven in the morning when he finally stood and went to look at the wall with the newspaper articles pinned to it.

Sherlock’s eyes moved over the different articles. An industrious committed suicide after embezzlement was discovered in his company. An officer of a major charity found dead after thousands of pounds in cash went missing at a charity event. Bank official kidnapped and ransom paid. All things Moriarty would have been involved in but Sherlock knew he couldn’t be. Moriarty was dead.

He stood staring at the wall when he noticed he hand felt warm. He looked down and noticed a cup of coffee in it. He sipped the coffee perfectly prepared to his liking as he continued to read and reread the articles. In the back of his mind a small tumbler fell. Coffee? How had coffee end up in his hands? When had he made coffee?

Sherlock looked down at the cup in confusion, then slowly turned to see Molly leaning against the counter in the kitchen watching him. She was dressed again in his blue silk robe and the old t-shirt. She sipped at a cup, both of her hands wrapped tightly around the cup.

“I certainly hope that is not coffee too.” Sherlock said.

“The last of the ginger tea you had. I’ll have to go and buy some groceries today.” She smiled over the rim of the cup.

“And new sleepwear?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Someone stopped me from buying new clothes to go run chemical analysis on cigarette ash. I didn’t get to sleepwear yesterday. Just a few slacks and blouses. And I’m furious with Mary.”

“Oh.” He walked into the kitchen to stand in front of her.

“There was an adorable jumper with daisies and lady bugs on it and she wouldn’t let me buy it.” Molly pouted dramatically.

“You’ll remind me to thank her for that won’t you.”

Molly giggled.

“When did you hand me a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“I just held it out to you and you took it.”

Sherlock looked down at the empty cup. “I’m sorry about yesterday Molly.”

“Don’t be. You were right. I didn’t want Tom there and it was the fastest way to get him to leave. Although I wish you had phased it differently.” She blushed slightly. “But Sherlock, from now on, I need to think of the baby. This stress can’t be good for her.”

“Are you sure it’s a girl.”

Molly looked down at her cup. “No I’m just . . . well, wishing for a girl. I want a little girl to have . . .”

“The relationship you missed with your own mother.”

Molly looked up at him. Her eyes shiny with tears. “Remember me saying less stress for the baby. You have got to quit deducing me Sherlock.”

He obverted his eyes to the side as if trying to think of something to say. “I’ll try.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask for miracles.” She smiled at him. “Well I should go get dressed and get off to work.”

He nodded and watched as she walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.

“Molly, you don’t need to buy new sleepwear if you don’t want too. You can keep using my t-shirt and robe.”

She looked back at him and smiled. He noticed it was the same bright smile as in the photograph.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper strikes again

Chapter Seven

The naval officer left the doors of the Royal Courts at noon. He had forty minutes for lunch before he had to return for the afternoon sessions. Stepping out onto Fleet Street he turned down the Strand. His uniform drew attention from several ladies as he passed. He smiled as he quickened his pace.

The projectile entered at the third thoracic vertebrae shattering his spine. The soft noise jacketed round fragmented, it tore various organs to shreds. The sailor fell to the ground. Blood poured out of the wound. The report followed, the sound bouncing off the buildings along the Strand. People ran screaming, as they scanned their surroundings looking for the shooter.

Lestrade was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. The nap he had hoped to get at noon was cancelled when the call came in of another shooting. Greg’s eyes were red from lack of sleep and a gallon of coffee later he was barely awake enough for the initial investigation. Again no witnesses to the actual shooter, only the murder of the service man.

Sherlock and John walked through the police lines and over to the exhausted DI.

“Greg.” John said as he looked concern at Lestrade. “When was you last full night of sleep?”

“The night before the first shooting. The sniper has the press working overtime and the higher ups want some results.”

“Any connection between the two victims other than the obvious?” Sherlock asked as he looked over the body.

“No, this is Lieutenant Rodney Moncrieff. Detached to the Judicial Advocate for the Navy. He was on lunch break when he was shot. He was a career officer, unmarried with no girlfriend per say. Private Newton had just joined up, was being deployed in two weeks for his first tour in Afghanistan. Dated the same girl for six months. The two never met, never were in the same place at the same time, did not travel in similar circles. No connection at all other than military.” Lestrade said as he pinched the bridge of his noise. Cases involving unconnected victims usually meant the killer was also unconnected to them. Therefore next to impossible to solve.

“The sniper used a soft noised round this time. He planned on the victim being in a crowd and didn’t want the round to pass through and kill someone else. Interesting.” Sherlock said. “John?”

John stepped closer to the body and knelt. Memories of the desert returning to him with a vengeance. “Multiple organ damage. Liver definitely injured. He would have bled out quickly if his heart wasn’t involved. If his heart was also hit, he would have died almost instantaneously.” John stood and looked around. “He was at some distance this time. Two hundred and fifty maybe three hundred meters. High, rooftop again.”

Sherlock and John waited till Lestrade was radioed that the PCs had found the sniper’s nest. It was almost three hundred yards down Fleet Street from where the young sailor had been shot. Sherlock and John climbed the stairs with the DI and out on to the top of the building. The wind blew across the gravel roof and chilled the men. Sherlock walked a grid from the door to the edge not once stopping.

“Nothing. He left nothing this time.” Sherlock hissed.

“The DNA from the cigarette but was also worthless. He’s not in any data base we have access too.” Lestrade said.

“He’s military.” Sherlock said as he bent over the edge of the building to look down the street to the crime scene.

“Military?! How do you know that? He’s not in any Military DNA data base here or the States.” Lestrade shouted over at the man.

“South African. Dishonorably discharged.”

“Okay Sherlock, now you’re just having me on. Stop it.” Lestrade said as he buried his face in his palm.

“His name is Colonel Sebastian Moran. He was one of Moriarty’s top assassins. South African, military trained sniper.”

John and Greg stood staring at Sherlock.

“I believe Moran has decided to take over Moriarty’s network or what is left of it and run it himself. The broadcast of Moriarty was faked.”

“Are you sure?” Lestrade asked stunned by Sherlock deductions.

“Expert sniper who smokes South African cigarettes, who can access military building without causing any suspension. Right on the heels of a fake message from Moriarty. Yes I’m sure.”

The three men turned to walk down the stairs allowing the forensic team to photograph and record information about the sniper’s nest. Lestrade was on his mobile calling Donavan; requesting any record they would have on one Sebastian Moran.

John was patting Sherlock on the back when John’s mobile rang with a call. John pulled the phone from his pocket and smiled.

“Oh it’s Mary.” He said and he pushed the button to receive the call. “Hello luv.” He paused then his hand gripped Sherlock’s shoulder hard. “Mary slow down. How much blood?” Sherlock and Greg turned quickly to look at John. “Have you call 999?” The two men could see John’s face tense as it paled. “Are you in a lot of pain?” Sherlock reach for his mobile. “I’m on my way I’ll met you at hospital. St Bart’s. I’m coming Mary, I’m coming.” He was practically shouting as he ended the call.

The three men rushed down the stairs and Lestrade yelled at a Constable to bring a police car over. Sherlock quickly texted Molly to meet them in Casualty. Something was wrong with Mary and baby. John was shaking and trying to push his way down the street when Greg grabbed his arm and shoved him into the backseat of the patrol car. Greg jumped in behind the wheel and Sherlock sat in the passenger seat.

“John?!” Sherlock turned to look at his best friend. “JOHN LOOK AT ME! Mary is strong. She’ll be alright. She’ll take care your baby, they’ll be alright.”

John’s jaw clinched tight as he nodded at his friend. Greg sped off down the streets towards the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and enjoyed


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the tags this will be a slow build but don't worry, there will be smut eventually. Thank you for all the kudos and comments. They encourage me to write faster.

Chapter Eight

Molly just arrived at the foot of Mary’s bed in Causality as Sherlock and John came rushing in. John pushed his way to Mary’s side. Shouting for lab results and asking if an ultrasound had been performed.

“Who the devil are you!?” Shouted the nurse standing on the opposite side of Mary’s bed.

“Dr. John Watson, this is my wife and child!”

The nurse paled and backed up a step. “I’ll get the attending,” she said as she retreated from the pair.

Sherlock stepped beside Molly and grasped her hand as they waited for the attending physician to speak to John.

John leaned over Mary and gently stroked his hand through her hair.

“Mary just breathe normally if you can. Just relax, I’m here. We’re going to be okay. How long have you been bleeding?”

Mary squeezed John’s hand and whispered to him. He gently rested his hand across her abdomen and leaned in to whisper back to her. A tired looking woman walked across the floor and approached John while reading a chart.

“Mr. and Mrs. Watson, is this your first child?”

John turned his head, his face set in anger. “Dr. and Mrs. Watson and yes this our first child and my wife is showing signs of fetal distress. Why is she not on any monitors and why haven’t you performed an ultrasound yet?” His voice firm and demanding as the military officer he was.

The tired doctor looked up confused. Then moved over to examine Mary closer. She pulled the curtain around the bed to block Sherlock’s and Molly’s view. Then just as suddenly she flung the curtain back.

“Nurse, notify OBGYN we have a probable placental abruption! Get OR notified we are sending a mother up for an emergency C-section! Dr. Watson how many weeks is your wife?”

“Thirty-two! Female fetus!”

“Good, good.” The doctor and two orderlies started pushing Mary’s bed away from the wall and down the corridor. John grabbed hold of Mary’s hand and she cried out in pain. Sherlock and Molly rushed after them.

At the lift, Molly and Sherlock were pushed back.

“John, we’ll be in the waiting room.” Molly called out as the doors of the lift closed.

Molly waited till the lift was moving before she pushed the button for the second lift.

“Molly, is it too soon for the baby to be born?” Sherlock’s voice was small almost childlike in quality.

She looked up as saw how pale he was. Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and held him tight to her. He was shaking and he looked so lost and confused.

“No Sherlock. Well, yes it’s early. Eight weeks early but she a girl so her lungs will be further developed than a boy and babies are born at thirty-two weeks often without any complications.” Molly tried to explain. She was trying hard to reassure herself as much as Sherlock.

They rode the lift to the Surgical Floor and sat down in the waiting room. Sherlock never released Molly’s hand.

“What is placental abruption?” Sherlock asked again.

Molly swallowed. “The placenta has pulled away from the uterine wall and cut off the blood and oxygen supply to the baby. Mary is also bleeding internally. It is very dangerous for both of them. The doctors can save the baby and stop the bleeding with a C-section if they get there in time.”

Sherlock looked over at Molly then down at her abdomen.

“Is it common in pregnancies?”

“No actually it’s quite rare.” Molly realized he was staring at her stomach. “Sherlock, I’m fine. The baby is fine.”

“But it could happen to you too.”

“No it won’t. I’m younger than Mary and like I said it is very rare. Don’t start begging for trouble.”

The lift doors opened and Lestrade stepped off. He saw Sherlock and Molly and moved over to them quickly.

“Where’s John and Mary?” the DI asked.

“Mary’s is having a C-section and John is with her.” Molly said. The three stood in silence not knowing what to say to each other.

Sherlock’s mind was racing. ‘ _Mary was bleeding and the baby was danger. John was panicked, it had to be bad. He needed to help John. He needed to strong for John. Mary could die. Molly could be taken away from him too if there were complications in her pregnancy’._ Sherlock couldn’t lock on one train of thought and hold it for more than a moment. His fingers twitched as he needed a cigarette.

A cigarette, just like Moran, South African cigarette, needed one while he waited. Moran waited for the first victim not the second. Knew when and where the second victim was going to be. Used deadlier ammunition with the second victim. Why? All the blood at the scene.

Blood. Mary was bleeding. She needed John. John needed Sherlock.

Sherlock’s brain started spinning out of control. He wanted to scream.

The door from the surgical ward opened and John walked out. His face was stern but his eyes were red. He walked up to Sherlock and quickly wrapped himself in the taller man’s embrace.

“John?” Sherlock said softly.

“She’s in surgery. They wouldn’t let me go in. Oh God Sherlock, what am I going to do? I can’t lose her.” John’s voice was cracking with emotion. Seeing his friend so overwhelmed caused Sherlock’s spirit to become iron.

Sherlock held tight to John then softly said, “Molly would you please go find us some decent tea. John prefers milk no sugar.”

Molly nodded and pulled Lestrade with her out of the room. Sherlock carefully guided his friend to sit down and rested his hands on John’s shoulders.

“John listen to me. Listen. Mary is stronger than either of us realize. She is more than a fighter, she is an assassin. She did the impossible to keep you safe and she will do the same for your child.”

“She shot you.” He whispered back.

“Yes she did. To save you. And she will do whatever it takes to save her baby. She will come back to you John. I know she will. Neither of us can stay away from John Watson. He is a loving husband and devoted father and the best man I know. You are the perfect man. And Mary will come back to you.”

John broke down crying and leaned into his friend. Sherlock slipped his arms around John and held him till he calmed down. Right now John wished he wasn’t a doctor thinking of all the possible outcomes. John knew the odds and the medical risks. He knew he would know quickly because the surgery would be over in less than twenty minutes.

The two men sat quietly waiting for the nurse to come and tell John the news. Either he would be a father or a widower. He would know soon. Sherlock did not leave his side. He did not flee to his mind palace. He stayed beside his friend and waited.

Molly and Greg returned with mugs of tea. They were the mugs from the laboratory break room and not the cafeteria.

“I thought you would prefer fresh tea I just made than reheated tea.” She handed the mugs over to the two men.

“Thank you Molly. Always considerate.” Sherlock said looking up at her. His arm still wrapped around John’s shoulder. John drank the tea looking down at the floor. He was shaking slightly and Molly wanted to hug him too.

The door from the surgical unit opened and a woman in scrubs walked in. She looked between Greg and Sherlock then down at John.

“Dr. Watson?”

John swallowed hard, clinched his free hand and looked up. “Yes.”

“Congratulation. You have a healthy baby girl. Mother and daughter are doing fine.”

John dropped the mug as he jumped up and hugged the stranger. Molly grabbed Greg for a hug, then looked down at Sherlock. She could see the fear bleed away from his expression. She leaned over and pulled him to his feet and hugged him too.

“See. Everything will be fine.” She smiled at him and he smiled back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay let's get ready. Major character injury in this chapter and return of the sniper. Violence, murder and description of a crime scene.

Chapter Nine

John refused to leave the hospital for the next three days. He only left Mary’s side to go and shower down in the break room showers after Molly had brought clothes for him to change into. Sherlock stayed too. He parked himself in a chair outside Mary’s hospital room and whenever John was requested to leave by staff, Sherlock quickly deduced the worse things about them, causing them to scurry away crying. John would just shake his head and then squeeze Sherlock’s forearm and say ‘Thank you’.

On the third day, John called Sherlock into Mary’s room. She was sitting up and looked very pale but happy. In her arms she held a small baby girl wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. Mary’s eyes were bright with tears and John mirrored her expression.

“Sherlock, I would like to introduce you to your godchild. Elizabeth Maria Watson.” John carefully took the baby from Mary’s arms and placed her in Sherlock’s.

He was astonished. He had never held so small a human being before. Her face was round and pink. Her lips, a shade darker than the rest of her skin, were in a cupid bow like his own. She wiggled slightly and tried to open her eyes. Sherlock saw the pale blue matching Mary’s under the half lids. Sparse blond hair covered the round head.

“John she is beautiful.” Sherlock said as he sat down beside the bed looking down at his godchild. “Elizabeth, I will be your best friend. I will teach you such things.”

John rolled his eyes. The quick image of Sherlock carrying his daughter to a crime scene just flashed before him.

“Sherlock, there will be limits at to what you will teach my daughter.” John said mockingly.

“Your father can be so boring.” Sherlock cooed at the child. Mary laughed and held her hands out, requesting the child back. Sherlock gently slipped the wrapped baby into her arms, smiled broadly.

There was a gently knock on the door and Molly slipped her head around the corner looking in when John said enter.

“How’s everyone doing?” She asked.

“Come see.” John, the ever proud father wanting to show his daughter off.

“Oh Mary, John she’s lovely.” Molly stepped over towards Sherlock. The tall man unconsciously slipped his hand around Molly’s waist and let his long fingers rest over the side of her slight baby bump. It took a moment for Molly to register Sherlock’s hand there but then she turned and looked up into his face. Sherlock was still fixed on watching the small baby in Mary’s arms.

Molly backed slowly out of his arms and then said. “Greg’s been looking for you Sherlock. Something to do with the sniper.”

“I’ve been ignoring his texts for the last few days.”

“Go Sherlock, we’re okay.” John said. “Find the bastard and get him for us.”

“John, language!” Mary admonished. John actually blushed, as Molly giggled. Sherlock nodded his head and reached into his pocket to grab his mobile.

*****

Mary was to be discharged two weeks later with baby Elizabeth. John finally went home and prepared the flat for his wife and child to arrive home.

Sherlock had received new information from Lestrade about the sniper. The crazed man had sent a letter to the news outlets demanding a ransom. Five million pounds sterling or he would start shooting civilians. The government was now heavy involved and it was being treated as a terrorist threat.

“It’s like that crazy pair of brothers that shot people in Maryland, USA several years ago.” Sherlock said as he rode to the hospital with John to pick Mary and Elizabeth up. “He is demanding ransom.”

“But after he is paid what is to stop him from continuing to kill people?”

“Nothing, that’s what the idiots at Whitehall don’t seem to understand. I don’t believe ransom is his only goal here anyway.” Sherlock said as he leaned back in the seat of the taxi. “Something else is at play.”

“Do you still think it’s this Moran character you told us about?” John asked.

“I did until he asked for the ransom.” Sherlock pulled his mobile out and flicked through his texts. “I’m missing something.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find it soon. You are the great Sherlock Holmes aren’t you?” John smirked.

Sherlock ignored him.

John smiled as the taxi took them closer to the hospital. He turned to look out the window but tried to see his friend in the reflection of the window.

“So what about you and Molly?”

Sherlock paused in his texting to look up. “Molly and myself? What could you mean?”

“Sherlock, I’m not blind. I saw how you held onto her in Mary’s room. She’s living at Baker Street and you told that idiot Tom you two were involved. What is really going on?”

“John, you’re imagining things.”

John laughed. “So the asexual Sherlock ‘my body is only transport’ Holmes has finally discovered girls.”

“John, your conclusions are erroneous.” Sherlock returned to his texting.

“What will you tell Tom the next time you see him? You and Molly are getting married? Having a baby?”

A small smirked played at the corners of Sherlock’s lips.

“I don’t believe we need to worry about Tom reappearing.” Sherlock said. “I won’t need to come up with any other subterfuge.”

*****

Dr. Molly Hooper was up to her elbows in someone. She stood next to the autopsy table examining the aortic aneurism of the deceased woman.

“Five centimeters by four centimeters,” she recited to her tech. The tech wrote the information down on the body diagram.

“Not impressive but lethal.” The tech noted.

The doors opened as a security guard bounded in. “Uhm . . .” He stopped short when he noticed the two women with their hands inside the corpse.

“What is it?” Molly asked sharply.

“Ah . . . you need to evacuate.” He said unable to look away from the corpse.

“What?!”

He turned away and faced the wall. “Ah . . . there is a bomb threat. Police are evacuating the medical school. You both need to leave now.”

“I’m in the middle of an autopsy.”

“Orders, you have to leave now.”

Molly straightened up. “Okay, Beth cover Mrs. Jones with a drape. We’ll have to finish this later.” The two women pulled their PPE’s and walked out of the morgue. They went outside and stood on the opposite side of the street with the other employees who had been evacuated.

“What about the patients?” Molly asked one the nurses.

“They’re still in hospital, only the medical school was threatened.”

“Who would threaten to blow up a medical school?”

“The same people who would blow up a train station.” The nurse said as she turned away from Molly.

*****

The afternoon sun was getting lower and the car traffic was halted around St Bart’s. The taxi Sherlock and John were in was stuck in traffic two blocks from the hospital. Sherlock’s phone pinged with a text. He pulled it out and read Lestrade’s text.

“Get out of the car, John.” He said firmly as he handed the driver the fee for the ride.

“What is it?”

“Just get out. We need to get to Bart’s now.” He took off running down the pavement. The doctor close to his heels.

Molly watched the police and soldiers purposefully move about across the street from the crowd. She saw the grey hair and tan skin before it registered with her that it was Greg Lestrade. She tried to wave at him to get his attention, but he didn’t notice her. Quickly, she ducked under the blue and white police barricade and hurried across the street.

Two marines in camouflage uniforms and armored vests walked up to her blocking her way. The two men towered over Molly, holding their AR’s close to their chest.

“Ma’am you must go back behind the barricade.” The tallest man said to Molly as the second man stood with his back to them scanning the crowd.

“I want to speak to DI Lestrade.”

“Ma’am you need to back up.” The marine said firmly.

“I just want to tell him . . .”

The marine in front of her gasped as blood spattered all over the front of Molly. A sudden sharp burning pain invaded her right side. The man slumped forward and crashed into Molly, pushing the two of them to the ground. The other marine reached out to his partner when he was also hit. The round going through the side of his body. Tearing into his lungs and pericardial sac. He collapsed next to Molly on the tarmac. His breathing became labored as his chest filled with blood.

Molly tried to reach out to him as she was being crushed under the first dead marine. The second man’s eyes locked on hers. She watched as the life left the brown eyes. She closed her own eyes as the pain filled her body. Her own blood mixing with marines’. The last thing she saw was Sherlock’s ice blue eyes. She saw those eyes looking into her own as the darkness overcame her.

*****

Sherlock and John had just turned the corner in front of Medical School when they heard the gun shots. The report bouncing off the tall buildings on both sides of the street. The pavements were blocked by people screaming and trying to run away from the gun fire. Sherlock and John desperately pushed their way through.

Sherlock saw the three bodies on the tarmac in front of the Medical School when he passed through the crowd. The two marines and the woman in blue scrubs. He saw Lestrade rush over to the bodies and push the man off the body of the woman. Sherlock moved forward slower now, not running. He need to get his mind ready to deduce the evidence. The paramedics picked the woman up and set her on a gurney. Her brown hair covered her face. One of the paramedics pulled the hair back and Sherlock saw Molly’s blood spattered face.

His heart stopped. He felt he had been punched in the stomach.

“Molly!!” John gasped. Lestrade looked up to see the two men standing nearby.

Sherlock rushed over and leaned over her. “Is she . . .” fear couldn’t let him finish the question.

“She’s alive sir, but we need to get her inside.”

John pulled Sherlock back and held his friend.

“She pregnant!” Sherlock shouted as the paramedics started to push the gurney away. Lestrade and John turned to stare at Sherlock. “She’s pregnant!” he shouted again. The paramedics rushed Molly into Casualty.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos.

Chapter Ten

John sat and watched his best friend. Sherlock had not moved a muscle since they had sat down in the waiting room for surgery. It was the second time in seventeen days they had sat here waiting for news. Greg turned and looked at John with unasked questions in his eyes. John shrugged and turned back to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, Molly is pregnant?”

The man did not answer.

“How long Sherlock?” John asked.

Sherlock steeple his fingers under his chin and looked blankly at the wall. John pulled out his mobile and texted the one person he thought might be able to help.

_‘Danger night’_ was all the text said. Within three minutes his phone rang and John stood and left the room to answer it.

“Mycroft, I don’t know what happened. But Molly Hooper is pregnant.”

“John you are a doctor. I’m sure you are aware of the biological mechanics of pregnancy.”

“Mycroft, Molly Hooper is pregnant, living with your brother and has been shot.”

Silence on the other end of the line was all John heard.

“Mycroft, do you think Sherlock is the father?” John asked. “What is he going to do?”

“John thank you for informing me of the situation. I will be sending someone over to deal with the consequences.” The phone went dead.

“Damn fucking Holmes.” John hissed as he pushed the phone into his pocket. He had let Mary know earlier what had happened, and the hospital agreed to allow mother and baby to stay one extra day, since no one would be home with them the first night.

He returned to the waiting room and sat down beside Greg, who was still watching Sherlock.

Sherlock had slipped into his mind palace. It was the only place he felt in control. Molly had taken up too much of his cognitive thoughts to be allowed to continue. She was the only thing he could think about outside the walls of his palace.

The color of her hair as the sun hit in the morning while she read the paper by the window. The way she bit her lip as she did the crossword puzzles. How much her eyes turned dark when she was upset or excited. All these things played at the corners of his thoughts until he retreated to the mind palace.

Here, within its fictitious walls he was safe from her. But then he wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, a whole new wing to the mind palace had been built and held just memories of Molly Hooper there. Rooms of various pastel colors and light. Until he came to the room of Molly standing in his old t-shirt and silk robe. That room was midnight blue _._ Her leg peeking out from underneath the silk appeared even paler in the dark room. Her skin was smooth as ivory. Her mouth round and inviting. Sherlock didn’t even know this room existed in his mind palace until he went looking for it. But here it was. It was a room he wanted to stay in but knew he couldn’t.

He stepped back out of it and closed the door quickly. He needed to flee, to find refuge elsewhere within his mind. The sniper.

Yes, the sniper had killed again. Two marines this time. Two more dead. Two dead and Molly fighting for her life. He shook his head slightly and refocused.

He used the more destructive ammunition again as he did with the second kill. He waited around the first time for a victim but knew where the second victim was going to be. He waited and smoked a cigarette the first time, but knew when the second victim was going to lunch and where to set his sniper nest.

The next two victims were at the hospital after a false bomb threat was called. The false bomb threat obviously was to get the victims out of hospital. But why use a hospital looking for victims, if help can reach them quicker? Why not shoot a victim anywhere else in the city when help would be longer to get help to them? Unless you wanted a specific victim that would be at that hospital.

Sherlock blinked his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Lestrade, Lieutenant Moncrieff, was he ever in the SAS?” Sherlock asked.

“Who?”

“The second victim?” Sherlock turned and looked at the man.

“Oh, ah . . . yeah. Two years ago.” Lestrade answered.

“And the sniper said he was going to start shooting civilians next?”

“Yes,” Lestrade leaned forward in his chair.

Sherlock stood and started pacing the room. He pulled out his mobile and quickly texted a message. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He said over and over again berating himself.

“Sherlock, what is it?” John asked.

“I know who the next victim is going to be?”

“Who?” John and Greg asked together.

“Me.”

John jumped to his feet and moved over to block Sherlock’s pacing.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“I’m an idiot John. It is Moriarty and Moran.”

“Moriarty is dead. You said the broadcast was faked.” John said as he grabbed Sherlock’s arm.

“Moriarty is dead but Moran is avenging him while taking over the criminal network. He is the new spider. And unlike Moriarty, Moran doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.” Sherlock looked down as his phone pinged with a text message. “Just as I thought. Alright, I can explain it now. The first murder was random. Moran sat up on that building looking for anyone in a military uniform to shoot. The second victim, Moncrieff was in the SAS two years ago and was involved in Lazarus. The plan to fool Moriarty and take out his snipers. Moncrieff ran the operation. The third victim was Molly. Moran waited till he had her in his sights. The two marines were shot to distract us from the fact she was the intended victim. The last two people Moran holds responsible for Moriarty’s death are Mycroft and myself. He will try and shoot me next.”

“Why not Mycroft?” Greg asked.

“He is never anywhere a sniper would have a chance at him. He practically lives in a bunker.”

“But Molly’s not dead.” John said.

“He thought she was initially, remember. We reported her killed in the explosion. When that didn’t work, he came up with what he knows best.”

“Sniper.” John whispered.

“Yes.” Sherlock said. “I’m stupid for not seeing it sooner.”

“Maybe you’ve been distracted lately.” Greg said. Sherlock looked at him, cocking his head to the side. “Being told you’re going to be a father distracts most men.” Greg smiled at Sherlock who just scowled back.

“I need to prepare for Moran. I need to predict his next move.” Sherlock started pacing again moving around John. The shorter man reached out the grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him back.

“Sherlock, you need to wait here for Molly. She’ll want to see you when she wakes up.” John said holding Sherlock’s gaze with his own.

“If I sit and wait, thinking about Molly I will go insane with guilt John.” Sherlock whispered. “I’m responsible for her being shot. I responsible for her.”

John nodded to his friend. “That’s the reason you need to stay, Sherlock.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, John wrapped Sherlock in a hug and patted him on his back.

“When this is over, we are going to have a long talk.” John whispered. Sherlock pulled back and blinked his eyes rapidly.

Sherlock’s mobile rang and he looked down at the caller ID. “Honestly John, you called my brother?” Sherlock bemoaned and moved to the opposite side of the room to take the call. It was a long conversation and Greg and John sat and watched in silence. When it was over, Sherlock slowly lowered the phone and returned to the chair he was sitting in earlier.

“Sherlock?” John asked.

“Mycroft has been informed about the intentions of the sniper.”

Greg glanced quickly at John, then turned back to ask. “So what does that exactly mean? Will Mycroft move to a safer location or what?”

“It means it is being dealt with.” Sherlock steeple his fingers again and retreated rapidly to his mind palace and searched for the midnight blue room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly wakes up in the hospital and Sherlock meets Moran.

Chapter Eleven

The first thing Molly noticed was how cold she was. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and Sherlock’s eyes were right there. The big ice blue orbs. Then she saw his toss of dark curls. She started to blink her eyes, when she reopened them Sherlock was gone.

Molly tried to focus on the three people who were standing around her. She saw the round pudgy face of Mike Stamford smiling down at her. She tried to speak but her mouth didn’t seem to want to work. Her throat was dry and her nose burned. She moved her hand up, but Mike stopped her from pulling out the cannulas.

“Welcome back Molly,” she heard Mike’s voice. Molly closed her eyes, then opened them again. Both Mike and John were standing to her left.

That’s when the pain hit her. Molly’s right side was on fire. She tried to lift her arm but it felt leaden. Her mind raced for a moment as fear rushed through her and she started to hyperventilate.

“Molly calm down.” John’s voice was soft and reassuring. His hand gentle stoked his hand down her arm.

“The baby?” She asked. Her voice a broken whisper.

“Your baby is fine.” John answered her.

She started to feel herself float and disassociate from the room. She looked over and saw the IV pole and the bolus of morphine.

“John, the baby, morphine?” She couldn’t get her mind to form complete sentences.

“They just started it.” John explained. “They wanted you awake first. There’s no complications for the baby. Just relax.”

“What happened?”

“The marine you were talking to was shot. The bullet fragmented and pieces hit you.” John explained. "You are going to be okay. After you woke up in post anesthesia ICU they moved you here. You’re on the ward now.”

“I thought I saw . . .” Molly tried to speak.

“You saw what?” Greg asked. Molly turned her head to the right. She smiled at the detective. “If you wanted to get my attention you could have just called me. Not shown up at one of my crime scenes.” She sighed as he smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I need to get back to work. I’ll be back to see you soon.”

He leaned over her bed to kiss her goodbye. He leaned down to kiss her lips, then paused and moved to kiss her forehead. He stood up straight and winked at her. As he moved away from the bed, Molly noticed the man leaning against the wall, previously blocked from Molly’s view.

Molly took a quick breath. Her chest revolted against the sudden movement. Molly’s face paled and she closed her eyes. Sherlock pushed himself off the wall and quickly moved to the bed. She opened her eyes again as Sherlock leaned closer.

John nudged Mike. “Come on, let’s go Mike.” The two men left Sherlock and Molly alone. She tried to take another deep breath and groaned.

“Please do not excite yourself.” He said. “You are hooked to a myriad of monitors and I don’t want the nursing staff rushing in.”

She hoped the morphine would grab hold of her quickly. She nodded and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“You must get better and quickly. I’m making arrangements to keep you safe. When this is over I want to talk to you.”

Molly’s eyes became large. Smiling Sherlock noticed her pupils dilate. Then the eyes lost focus. Recognition faded away as her eyes fluttered close. Sherlock looked up at the IV pole. Half of the morphine bolus was now flowing through Molly’s veins. He hoped she would remember their conversation. He didn’t know if he would have the courage to start it again.

*****

Sherlock walked briskly out of the front of St Bart’s. It was the afternoon the day after Molly had been shot. He had spent the remainder of the previous night in her hospital room. Nursing staff had told him repeatedly that visiting hours were over but he wouldn’t knowledge them. After the forth failed attempt to make him leave the staff gave up.

Sherlock sat staring at the monitors and worked out the various initials. Blood pressure, pulse, percent CO2, etc. Glancing away from the screens he watched Molly’s chest rise and fall with her breathing. The stillness of Molly’s body worried him, but he had never actually seen her sleep so he didn’t know what would be normal for the petite pathologist. With the exception of her breath and the monitors there was no evidence she was still alive. Her skin was pale and cool to the touch.

Sherlock watched as the nurse hung a new IV bag with morphine. He wanted to believe it was the drug keeping her unconscious. The shift change brought in different nurses and more requests for him to leave. He just ignored them too.

At noon the text came through.

_‘Arrangements set’ M_

Sherlock slowly stood and leaned over Molly’s bed. He looked carefully at her face, studying it closely. He wanted to remember. He knew he may never see it again so he wanted one more memory for his mind palace. One more room just for her. He leaned in closer and gently placed a kiss on her cheek. Her right cheek. The one he always kissed. Then he left.

*****

He stepped out of the front doors of St. Bart’s and hailed a taxi. He jumped into the back and gave the address to the driver. He had made it into the taxi without gunfire and took a deep breath. It would be a twenty minute drive through traffic from St. Bart’s to Baker Street.

The taxi pulled up in front of 221 and Sherlock quickly paid his fare. He knew he didn’t want to run in the building. He slowed his breathing and stepped out of the vehicle; he walked purposefully to the elegant black door, then unlocked it and stepped inside.

He moved up the narrow stairs and entered his flat. The ordinary appearance of it seemed to upset him more than calm him. Somehow he felt it should look different now. It should be different. Molly had moved not only into the flat but into his life. Things should look different.

He took a deep breath. The smell of his dusty books and the acrid smell of some previous forgotten experiment. He smelled the chalk aroma of the ancient wall paper and plaster. Then he caught the scent of the two people who lived here. The two people who shared this space. It gave him resolve.

He slowly removed his suit coat and looked around. Dishes in the drying rack, left by Molly before she went to work the day before. The skull on the mantel with his knife pinning down some correspondence, next to the photograph of Molly and her father. His books were on the shelves in the peculiar order he preferred. And there resting on the desk was his violin.

He opened the case and lovingly caressed the instrument. Nimbly, he picked it up and slowly pulled the bow across the strings. The sound help calm his nerves. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and set it on the desk, then he began to play his violin. First starting with some Barber then Liszt. Then he started letting the music play itself. A melody of his own composition played out without ever being written down.

The call did not come until just before dawn the next morning. Sherlock had spent the night waiting, pacing and playing his music. He wondered if the caller had been pacing too. But he knew that was not the way of military trained sniper waited. A sniper had to be patient, to wait for their prey to become comfortable and let their guard down.

Sherlock needed to be patient too. He let the phone ring three times before he answered it.

“Good morning,” he said with his liquid baritone voice.

“Good morning, Mister Holmes.” The voice had the light lilt of the South African accent. Sherlock allowed himself half a smile.

“Colonel Moran. So nice of you to call. May I be expecting a visit?” Sherlock started to pace in front of his windows.

“Maybe soon, I have been looking for your brother. Might you know where I could find him?”

“Well, he is very busy right now. I don’t believe he will be able to see you.”

“No one is able to see me, Mister Holmes.” The laugh was dark and sinister over the line. Sherlock knew his plan was working.

“You were taught well then.”

“Yes, five kills and the police have no clues.”

“They do now.” Sherlock paused and set his violin down.

“The ransom?” He laughed again. “You know that was just a joke. I don’t expect anything to come of it.”

“They know Moriarty is dead and you are behind the shootings. They know you are trying to take over what remains of his criminal network. You won’t succeed. I will be coming for you.”

“The hunter should know when he becomes the hunted.”

A chill ran down Sherlock’s spine. He looked up out the window. Suddenly the window shattered in a spider web pattern as the layers of film the bullet proof glass was made of held the 762x54 round.

Sherlock instinctively fell backwards. The SAS commando hidden in the back of the flat started shouting orders into his radio.

“TARGET AQUISTITION!”

“TARGET AQUIRED, TARGET AQUIRED!” crackled back over the radio. “Muzzle flash third floor third window left.”

“GREEN FIRE, FIRE!” the SAS officer ordered back into the radio. The SAS snipers opened fire from three separate nests around Baker Street. The multiple shots from the .338 Lapua tore into the window across the street. The sound was deafening as Sherlock watched the building masonry exploded from the rounds entering.

A second SAS member grabbed Sherlock by the collar of his shirt and dragged him backwards through the flat to the stairs in the back. Sherlock fought to get to his feet but the young man knocked him back down to the floor.

“Stay down till the all clear, sir.”

The entire gun battle took less than twenty seconds. Sherlock sat on the floor listening to the radio crackle with information. The commandos had kicked in the front door of the flat. Moran had set his rifle up in ten feet back from the window. It appeared he had only been in the flat since early the day before. The SAS teams had been in hiding for thirty hours. Special orders from the Home Secretary. It was a textbook take down of a terrorist threat. The only problem with the assignment was Moran was not there. Nobody was there. Yes there was a tremendous amount of blood splattered over the walls and on the rifle, but the owner had dragged himself away.

By nine in the morning, the military presence had left Baker Street, leaving the police to clean up the carnage. Lestrade looked at Sherlock who sat disgusted under an orange blanket.

“Why isn’t he dead?” Sherlock said to no one in particular.

“He probable is dead based on the amount of blood sprayed around that room.” Lestrade said sitting down next to Sherlock. “Did you see that room? Multiple rounds, blood everywhere. He probably crawled off and died in some rat hole.”

Sherlock looked sideways at him.

“By the way,” Lestrade asked “When did you get the bullet proof glass?”

“Mycroft put it in without my consent after Moriarty blew them out two and half years ago.”

Lestrade shook his head remembering.

“Are you going to let Molly move back with Moran still out there?”

Sherlock didn’t answer the man. He stood and shrugged the blanket off his shoulders. Sherlock look up and down the street then turned to Lestrade.

“Is there anything else you need from me or can your idiots handle it from here?”

Lestrade pulled out his pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. He lit the cigarette as Sherlock watched. “Get the fuck out of here. She should be awake soon anyway.” Sherlock stepped away. “Oh Sherlock, if you hurt her in anyway, I’ll make sure you never see another crime scene.” Sherlock turned his head and considered the detective. He nodded to the man and left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets to hear the heartbeat.

Chapter Twelve

When Sherlock opened the door of Molly’s hospital room, she was awake and talking to the doctor. She was pale and small looking in the bed. Her eyes had dark circles under them and her lips were chapped. She worried the edge of the blankets as the doctor spoke to her.

“Will you please wait outside until we are done.” The doctor ordered.

“No it’s alright,” Molly said. “Come in Sherlock. This is Dr. Holt. Doctor this is Sherlock Holmes.”

The doctor nodded. Sherlock moved slowly over to the bed. He quickly looked the man up and down. British train physician, married, soon to be divorced, having an affair with one of the other members of staff, probably a nurse. Appears competent. Good. Still will need to have Mycroft find a new attending.

“Okay, Molly. You are doing very well, considering you were hit three times. Just under the right sub clavicular. One in the right 8th inner costal space and it nicked your liver. And one in the upper right biceps. We have no worries about infection, and we have no reason to believe there will be any post-op complications.”

“Ah. . . ah what about the baby? Is she okay?” Molly asked.

“I have a portable ultra sound and how about we give it a check.” He smiled at her. He pulled the machine over to the bed. The doctor pulled the blankets down and pulled Molly’s hospital gown up and exposed her abdomen.

Molly hissed as the doctor squirted the cool jelly over her belly then slowly moved the ultra sound wand over her abdomen. Molly and Sherlock watched the black screen as light and shadows moved across it. Molly reached up and grabbed Sherlock’s hand when she saw the shape of the child. The doctor pushed a button and the room filled with the sound of the child’s heartbeat.

Molly gasped as she heard her child’s heart. Sherlock turned to see Molly smiling at the screen. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listen to the rapid beat of the heart. Sherlock wrapped his other hand around hers as he watched her.

“Sherlock do you hear?” she asked as she turned her face towards him. Sherlock felt a jolt run through him as he looked at Molly’s open expression, her happiness. Never before had she looked so lovely to him. The two people stood staring at each other as the door opened.

“Molly?” Tom’s voice cut over the sound of the child’s heartbeat. Molly’s glance moved swiftly from Sherlock’s to Tom’s face as he looked around the hospital room’s door.

The doctor rapidly pulled the ultra sound wand away from Molly’s belly and covered her embarrassment with a towel.

“Wait outside please.” He practically shouted.

Tom walked further into the room. The sound of the heartbeat still echoing in the minds of the people in the room.

“Molly? A baby?” Tom asked as he stepped nearer the bed. A bouquet of purple and pink flowers in his arms. “You’re pregnant?”

Sherlock tightened his grip on Molly’s hand as he glared at the intruder. His eyes narrowed and anger pour out of every pore.

“Tom! What are you doing here?!” Molly asked in a rush of words.

“I came to see you. I saw you had been injured and I wanted to see you again. I wanted to try and work things out with you. I missed you.” Tom said wide eyed, ignoring the looks of hatred directed at him by Sherlock. “Molly, a baby? Our baby?”

“No. I’m the father.” Sherlock announced clearly, letting go of Molly’s hand so he could move to block Tom from getting any closer.

Tom finally looked over at Sherlock. He blinked as if only just noticing the man standing there. Tom’s face instantly reddened.

“No, I refuse to believe it. I want a paternity test. If Molly is carrying my child I want it.”

“Tom, she’s a human being, not a prize. Not a piece of property.” Molly started crying.

The two men ignored Molly as they glared at each other.

“Molly, I want you back. I need to save you from this mad man.” Tom shouted. “You know he killed someone. One of the cops told me that.” He took a step to move around Sherlock but the detective side stepped and blocked him from Molly. “You will be happier with me. My parents want us together again.”

“Your parents! You are forcing yourself on a young woman to please your family.” Sherlock sneered at Tom. “Are you so desperate to receive funding from them you are willing to misrepresent your relationship to return to their good graces? How far in debt are you now? Or does spousal abuse run in your family?”

“Insanity runs in yours!” Tom shouted at Sherlock.

“Stop!” Molly cried.

“That’s enough!” Dr. Holt announced loudly. “I will have both of you removed not only from Miss. Hooper’s room but from this hospital. As for paternity, that has already been determined.”

Molly looked up at the doctor. “It has?”

“Yes, your amniocentesis results are in your file. A paternity test was run at the same time.” The doctor opened the file and pulled out a sheet of paper. “It lists one William Sherlock Scott Holmes as father.”

Sherlock twisted to look at Molly. She turned quickly to stare at him. She lowered her chin and knitted her brow. Sherlock spun back quickly to face Tom.

“There as I said, I am the father. You are not need let alone wanted here.”

Tom leaned over to look at Molly. “I wanted to try and make up. To get back what we had. I didn’t know you where cheating on me with him. I never want to see you again. Never!” He tried to throw the flowers at Molly, but Sherlock deflected the bouquet. The flowers fell apart and cascaded down to the floor in pile.

“Out or I will have you arrested.” Sherlock said. Tom spun on his heels and left.

“I ordered both of you to leave!” Dr. Holt glared at Sherlock. “It is unhealthy for Miss Hooper to be under this much stress, and especially unhealthy for the baby.”

Sherlock spun and cocked his head to the side looking the doctor up and down. He opened his mouth to announce his deductions when Molly barked at him.

“Don’t you dare Sherlock! Don’t you dare!” Tears were running down her face. He snapped his mouth shut. “Dr. Holt, I need to speak to Sherlock. As you just announced, he is the father of my child according to the lab test. I promise he will not misbehave any further.”

“Molly, I am only thinking of your health and that of your child.”

“Yes I am aware, but I need to speak to Sherlock. He will not upset me.” She turned and glared at the man. Her face red with anger. “Will you Sherlock?”

The man shrugged and moved to sit in the chair next to Molly’s bed. “I will reframe from any further aggravation on Dr. Hooper’s part. I will also make sure no one else disturbs her.”

Molly looked up at the doctor and tried to smile. “We will be fine Dr. Holt. Thank you for the ultra sound. It was wonderful.” He nodded and winked at her. Sherlock thinned his mouth as the man passed by him.

Once the hospital room’s door was closed, Molly sat up and narrowed her reddened eyes at the detective.

“Sherlock?” She drew out his name as she asked the unspoken question.

“It wasn’t me. I believe my brother may have inferred himself in our situation.” Sherlock said without returning her gaze.

“Our situation?”

Sherlock finally looked over at her. “I promised you I would be here for you Molly. I promised I would help you any way I could through this pregnancy. Now I’m officially the father . . .”

“But you are not the father.”

“You heard the doctor Molly, yes I am.”

“Sherlock, I haven’t even had an amino. I damn well know we never . . .” She blushed suddenly realizing what she was about to say to the man.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. Crossing his long legs he leaned back in the chair. “Amazing isn’t it. Now as soon as you are ready, we will take you home.” Sherlock was not sure when he started to consider his flat as Molly’s home.

“Sherlock, who knows I’m pregnant?”       

“Well, most of your friends. John, Mary, Lestrade, oh and Mike Stafford.”

“MIKE STAFFORD! Did you tell everyone?!”

“They were all here when you woke up after surgery. You told them.” He lied. She slapped her palm to her face.

“Oh God. I’m so stupid. I don’t remember a thing.”

Sherlock felt his stomach lurched. “You don’t remember waking up in post-op? Anything we talked about?”

“No, I barely remember evacuating the hospital that day. What did we talk about in post-op?”

“Nothing important.” Sherlock looked down at his hands. He knew he didn’t have the courage to tell her now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly are dealing with each other's presence in the flat.

Chapter Thirteen

Molly had been home from the hospital for two week and she was solidly into the second trimester. She had always thought the stories of pregnancy hormones increasing one’s libido was a joke until she sat on the couch watching as Sherlock walked through the flat again in his pajamas and dressing gown while barefoot. Molly never considered herself kinky, but right now she couldn’t take her eyes off Sherlock’s feet.

His bare feet padded softly across the wooden floor and onto the rug. Peeking out from under the hem of his striped pajama bottoms. How long and graceful they looked. Almost sculptured from marble perfect. The tendons and fine bones stretching the pale white skin taut and the perfectly formed alinement of the toes. The classical structure of the second toe being slightly longer in length than the big toe.

She licked her lips and wondered if she could tie him down, how long it would take for her to tickle those long toes till he abandoned all hope and became her sex slave.

“Molly dear, do you feel alright?” Molly jumped from her imagination as Mrs. Hudson spoke from the archway leading into the kitchen. “You’re so flushed in the face.” Mrs. Hudson turned and went back into the kitchen.

Molly blushed deeper. “I’m just . . . a little warm.”

“Why don’t you take that ridiculous jumper off Molly,” Sherlock said not looking up from his book. He wiggled his toes and Molly swallowed hard.

“I think I need to go upstairs and rest for a little bit.” Molly stood looking anywhere she could to avoid staring at Sherlock’s naked feet again. “Sherlock, don’t you have a case or something to go do?” Molly asked as she moved around the flat twisting her hands together.

“No, I’m busy here.”

She turned and looked at him. “Doing what?”

“Just busy. Things. Now go upstairs and rest.” Sherlock did not look up at her as she questioned him.

“Sherlock, you’ve been hanging around the flat for two weeks. Surly you can call John and go do something together?”

“John is home with Elizabeth and Mary. Go upstairs and lay down.”

Molly huffed and turned walking slowly up the stairs. Sherlock moved his glance to watch her move, swaying her hips slowly to and fro as she ascended the stairs. He held his book still in front of him as he watched her covertly.

“Sherlock, you should get out of the flat. Why don’t you go for a walk?” Mrs. Hudson called out from the kitchen. He glance jumped away from stairs at the sound of her voice. He had forgotten she was still in the flat.

“I’m reading.”

“Sherlock, you haven’t turned a page in ten minutes.”

He looked down at the book and realized the woman was correct. He slammed the book closed and stood rapidly. Spinning around the room, his robe trailing out behind him as he moved, he looked for something to do.

Sherlock had ignored three different cases Lestrade had texted him about in the last two weeks. He didn’t want to leave the flat. He refused to acknowledge that Molly was the reason he didn’t want to leave. He watched carefully, catching her movements from the peripheral of his vision. She was healing rapidly from the injuries. Not showing any signs of infection or PTSD, but still Sherlock hovered over her covertly.

He lingered by the bathroom door while she bathed, and watched as she fixed her herbal tea in the morning. He crept quietly up to her door at night and leaned his head against the wood listening to her breathing as she slept. She was becoming an addiction for him without his conscious knowledge. Her presence in his life becoming the center of his life.

“Sherlock, it’s not healthy to just hide in the flat. You need to get out.” Mrs. Hudson said as she wiped her hands on the dish towel. He didn’t turn and look at her, instead he picked up his violin and began playing again. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and folded the towel. As she left, he heard the soft patter of her heels on the stairs.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander as he played. The long drawn out notes floated over him as his mind palace opened up to him. The new wing with rooms of bright sunshine and pastel colors. The rooms dedicated to Molly. He thought of the three times he had kissed her. Once to apologize, once to thank. And the one time he wanted more but she was unable to give more to him.

He wanted to know what it would taste like to actually kiss Molly Hooper’s lips. Would she taste like strawberries, or was she going to taste like honey? He knew kissing her would be sweet and lingering. Perfect. For all of his decries against the shape and size of her mouth, he knew it would be perfect to kiss. And her neck, soft and long. His lips running down the length of her neck would be intoxicating.

His body started to sway to the music as he played. His mind moved Molly’s body to sway against him. The scent of almonds from her hair as she moved slowly against his chest. The openness and depths of her eyes as she looked up at him. She could become his perfect addiction.

*****

Molly laid on her bed as she heard the sound of the violin again. The third time today he had played it. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like to listen to him play, but Molly’s was getting frustrated. She wanted relief and it wasn’t going to be found here in this flat.

Her mind kept wandering back to Sherlock. One morning a week ago she was in the kitchen and he didn’t know she was awake. He stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped low over his hips. She silently stood in the kitchen and watched as the man towel dried his hair, his face covered. Water droplets moved in paths down his naked body. Tiny droplets traveled down his alabaster skin in the curves and dips of his muscles. Down his long back and over the dimples above his backside. Below the bottom edge of the towel, Molly could see the well-formed muscular calves of a man used to running.

He was completely unaware of her presences and therefore completely uninhibited. Just as he stepped into his bedroom he pulled the towel from his hips, exposing himself to her. She saw the plush round globes of his arse as he walked in and reached to close the door. The firm movement of muscle under perfect unblemished skin. His lean perfectly sculptured thighs. Molly’s mouth went dry and she ran up the stairs to her room, waiting for over an hour before she came back down.

Every night since, she had dreamed about him. Walking out of the bathroom, but instead of walking to his bedroom and pulling the towel from his body, he walked towards her. His blue gray eyes burning into her as he watched her face. Slowly pulling the towel from his waist and holding it out to the side. Her will forcing her to maintain eye contract instead of traveling over the body he was inviting her to see.

She would wake up wanting, moaning, needing and having no available relief. Her skin flushed and sweating. Finally, succumbing to her needs, she would pleasure herself. Her hand wrapped over her mouth to prevent any sound reaching Sherlock sleeping on floor beneath hers.

It was becoming too much. Molly had to find a way to avoid Sherlock and deal with her frustrations. She threw herself off her bed and slammed open the door of her room. Walking quickly down the stairs, she found Sherlock waiting for her in the sitting room.

“I need to go out.” She said as she reached for her coat.

“You are recovering from major surgery. You need to stay here.” He said setting his violin down.

“No I need to get some fresh air.”

“Open a window.”

“Sherlock!” She shouted at him. “I need to get away for a while.”

Molly looked up to see Sherlock turn away from her. His shoulders slumped and pull forward. She huffed in exasperation and dropped her coat on the chair, moving up behind him.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. It’s not you. Truly. I’m just . . .” She couldn’t tell him she was sexually frustrated and his nearness was driving her into a frenzy. “I’m needing a change of scenery.”

“I can go with you if you like.” He didn’t turn around to face her.

“I’m just going to go for a walk.”

“Alright, I’ll join you.”

“No.” He spun and glared at her. His eyes were burning brightly with emotion. “Sherlock, please. I just need to know what you want. If you want to stay or go? Whatever you want just let me know so I can do the opposite.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters were be mostly smut, if you want to avoid.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock finally get together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just smut for this chapter. The plot picks up in next chapter.

Chapter Fourteen

“Kiss you?” Molly asked in a confused whisper.

She looked up into Sherlock’s face. His silver blue eyes captured her gaze. Molly studied his face. She knew this face as well as she knew her own. All the times she had stared at him, watching him. She had seen him deducing, seen him angry, seen him questioning, she had even seen him afraid, but she had never seen him like this. Doubting himself.

He was trying to stand still in front of her but she could see the tremble in his frame, ever so slight. He waited for her to finally close the distance between them. She stepped closer to him. His scent of spice and coffee swept over her. He towered over her, looking down into her chocolate brown eyes. A slight blush over her cheeks.

“Kiss you?” she asked again.

He did not blink but stared right into her soul. Molly’s hand moved slowly, cautiously. As if reaching for a tiger ready to attack. Her fingertips lightly glanced over his jaw and moved up his cheek. Holding still, warming his flesh. She lifted up on her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. No more than a brush, a mere moment of connection but a fire roared to life inside her chest.

She lowered herself back down on to her feet. Sherlock’s eyes were closed. His face leaning forward, chasing down to try and meet hers.

“Sherlock?” He opened his eyes and the silver blue eyes that always seemed so distant and cold burned brightly and possessively. His arms reached out and grabbed her quickly before she could move away. He wrapped her into an embrace and pulled her up to kiss her again. Deeper and assertive. Demanding entrance, wanting to steal the breath of from her lungs.

Molly gasped as his tongue moved forward. Caressing and stroking hers. Sherlock lifted Molly up and carried her the two steps to his chair. He sat down arranging her to straddle his lap. Her knees on either side of his hips.

In this position Molly was taller than Sherlock. He had to look up into her flushed face. Her eyes turned dark and wanton. Her breathe sped up. Molly’s hands cupped both sides of Sherlock’s face as she turned his head to kiss him again. Moaning as he let her control his mouth. Her fingertips moved to twist and grab his raven curls. She pulled his head back to look into his eyes. The silver barely visible as his pupils blew wide with want.

His hands grabbed the hem of her jumper and pulled the offensive article of clothing over her head, tossing it across the room. Then carefully and slowly he unbutton her blouse. Exposing more of her smooth skin. When he could see the dainty white lace on the top of her bra, Sherlock leaned forward and gently kissed her décolletage. His tongue flicking out to lightly lick the area.

Molly moaned and arched her back, pushing herself closer to Sherlock’s exploring tongue. He moved to the left and kissed the top of her breast, then left a trail of hot kisses up her body till he could nip gently at her collar bone. Molly pulled tight on his hair and twisted down to capture his lips again. Kissing him deeply.

“Please Molly.” Sherlock moaned into her mouth.

“Yes,” she said as an exhalation of breath. He tightened his grip and lifted her up as he stood. Molly wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his bedroom.

Gently lowering to the mattress, Sherlock pulled back to look at Molly. Her cheeks were colored with a deep blush, her lips swollen from kisses. Molly’s hair fanned out across the pillow as Sherlock reached up and pushed a stray curl from her forehead.

“Molly you are so beautiful.” He whispered leaning down to kiss her again. Molly’s palms slide under his robe and pushed the fabric from his shoulder. “The baby? Is it safe if we . . .?”

“Yes, just nothing to athletic.” She whispered back as she grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. “Sherlock please.”

He pulled away only long enough to pull the shirt from his body. Then he leaned back over her, kissing her neck and letting his hands slowly travel down her body. His fingertips gliding across fabric as he reached for buttons. His mouth warm against her flesh as she felt her blouse fall open and expose her abdomen to his lips.

Molly looked down as Sherlock looked up at her through his long dark eyelashes. She sucked in a deep breath at the debauched look of the man as his tongue lapped at her skin. He smiled at her and pulled himself away from her. Standing beside the bed, he quickly pulled his pajama bottoms off. Molly sat up and quickly unsnapped her bra, then worked on the buttons of her slacks. Sherlock grabbed the hem of her slacks and pulled them down her legs. Molly’s panties soon joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

She looked up to see Sherlock standing naked in front of her. His long lean frame and ivory skin under a mess of dark curls. All she could think of was Michelangelo’s David. The perfect form of man carved in marble. She was looking at her own personal perfect form of man, Sherlock. She giggled slightly, and he frowned.

“No don’t, please.” She said reaching for him. “You’re perfect. I must be dreaming.”

He smiled at that. “Let me convince you, you are not.” He crawled across the bed towards her. Wrapping her in his arms, he twisted until she was laying on top of him. Kissing and letting his hands wander down her body. Letting her lead and moan as she rubbed her body against his.

She kissed his neck and nipped at his collar bone. Sherlock was panting as she moved down and let her tongue move over his nipples. He arched his back into her mouth as Molly sucked on the hardened nubs. She moved lower, her body dragging over his length, a tantalizing friction that teased at his control.

Molly nibbled at the edges of his belly button and moved to drag her teeth over his hip bone. Her tongue moved slowly down to the hollow of his hip. Sherlock moaned and twisted under her. Her tongue took one solid lick from the base of his cock to the top. She swirled her tongue around the top and slid the engorged head into her mouth. Sherlock arched off the bed again. His eyes squeezed tight as he concentrated on the sensation.

He could hear the pounding of his heart and roar of his blood in his ears. “Molly stop, oh please stop.” He begged. She pulled back confused. “Please, I want to inside you when I come.” He panted.

She smiled at him as she sat up and moved to straddle his hips. Molly leaned forward to kiss Sherlock and he wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her up. She yelped as he moved her quickly and positioned her over his face. Her knees rested on either side of his head, her hands tightly gripped the head board. Sherlock’s tongue lapped at her folds and started to caress the bundle of nerves sending Molly spiraling. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wood, her eyes squeezed shut. His hands holding her still so she could not evade he ministration.

As she rocked over his face, she groaned and felt the coil spring low in her abdomen tighten to the point of breaking. Carefully he slipped two fingers into her just as she was approaching the edge of the abyss. Curving just as he started to suck on her. Molly screamed out his name as she came over his face. Panting, she felt Sherlock release her and move her down his body. She collapsed into his arms and kissed his swollen lips. She tasted herself, salty and musky, on his lips as his tongue licked at her bottom lip.

“Now Molly,” he whispered into her mouth.

She lifted her hips and let him line up with her. Gently she lowered herself, feeling the wonderful sensation of being filled. She moved slowly, letting her body catch up with her need. Sherlock moaned loudly as he felt her warmth surround him and squeezed down on him. Molly noted his pale ivory skin was now blushed pink with desire just as hers.

Together they moved in concert. Slow and long, dragging it out to point of almost being too much, too overwhelming in pleasure to be painful. Both Molly and Sherlock glistened in sweat, the room rich with the smell of musk. The only sound was moans punctuated with curses of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes more’.

Molly second climax was more powerful than the first. Her body being pulled under waves of euphoria, her vision whiting out as she felt Sherlock shove up harshly and warmth pumping into her. She rested her palms on his chest looking down on the man she had fantasied about for years. His expression was complete surrender to the woman above him. He was hers. Sherlock was completely captured by Molly.

His hands slowly moved up her arms and pulled her down to him. He place a chaste kiss to her lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“Molly, my beautiful Molly.”

She closed her eyes and let him continue to whisper to her as sleep moved over them.  


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft brings Sherlock a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful and encouraging comments. You are all so kind. 
> 
> More smut and Mycroft brings a case to Sherlock. Mention of torture and death. Please know your triggers and avoid.

Chapter Fifteen

Molly woke to the warmth of kisses along her shoulder blades. An arm gently holding her tight around her belly, protectively. She sighed as a warm breath moved over her skin, and wiggled her hips.

“Good you’re awake. I’ve been waiting.” Sherlock whispered into her hair.

She hummed and smiled. “What time is it?”

“It’s coming up on eight in the evening. I’m bored.”

“Sherlock!” She groaned in mocked insult.

“I was hoping you could entertain me.” He twisted her to move her under his body. “I was getting hungry for you again.” His voice a deep growl. He captured her lips and kissed her deeply. His hands moved over her frame. His lips tasted the skin of her neck and down over her breast. She was just as sweet as he imaged she would be. Strawberries and almonds. His tongue slipped out and lapped at her areola. The peaked nubs were sensitive as he lightly bit down on them, Molly arched up and groaned loudly.

“Oh such a naughty little girl.”

He moved down her body and kissed her exposed skin, caressing as he enjoyed her moans and gasps. He leaned forward and licked at her, letting his tongue move slowly between her folds. Dragging gasps from deep in her throat. He smiled as she writhed under him. Gibberish escaped her mouth, unable to compose complete sentences. Molly’s fingers carded through his dark curls as he pushed her closer to her edge.

As he looked up at her flushed body; he moved slowly up her torso again and kissed her mouth.

“Molly?”

“Yes” she moaned as he warm breath covered her skin.

He positioned himself over her, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of Molly’s body. Gently and slowly he entered her. Gliding his harden length deep into her. His eyes wide open to watch her face as she accepted him. Slowly he rolled his spine and pushed deeper into her. Her body was hot as he slowly pulled back and started to rock shallow within her.

Sherlock rested his forehead on her shoulder, letting his lips graze over the skin of her neck.

“Molly, my beautiful Molly.” He moaned as he sped up but remained shallow inside her. His voice raspy as he panted.

Molly rolled her hips giving him a better angle, she rocked up to push him deeper into her. “Please Sherlock, more. Give me more.”

He groaned as if in pain as he let his body push deeper. He shifted his hand down and grabbed her hip, lifted it and Molly quickly wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heels dug into his plush arse.

As the white hot heat of orgasm burned through his veins, his teeth bit down on the muscle between Molly’s neck and shoulder. She called out his name as her back arched and together, they fell in tandem. Swept away on chemical haze of release.

Sherlock held himself up, not resting any weight onto Molly’s body. Carefully he rolled to the side. He twisted her and pulled her to his chest. Embracing her closely, he sighed and kissed apologetically over the bruise he left on her neck. Molly hummed as both his arms wrapped around her body. Sherlock kissed across her shoulder and nuzzled in her hair.

“Sherlock, I need to get up.” Molly said but did not make any movement to leave. “We should eat something.”

“No.”

“Sherlock, why not?” She smiled as he kissed the nape of her neck. His breath warmed her soul.

“I’m conducting an experiment.”

“Sherlock?”

“An experiment in refractory time.”

She laughed. “Sherlock are you ever going to let me leave this bed?”

“No.”

She could feel him smile into her skin as he spoke. Although she couldn’t see it, she knew it was the special smile that only a handful of people ever got to see. John, Mary and now herself. She rocked her hips and moved closer to him. As she closed her eyes, Molly realized she really didn’t want to get up anyway.

*****

It was late when Molly and Sherlock came out of the bedroom wearing pajamas, laughing. Molly realized she never had really ever heard his laugh. It was deep and round. It filled the room and moved through her. She smiled and leaned into him.

“Angelo will be delivering the food soon.” Sherlock said, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Good evening brother dear.” Mycroft’s voice cut through their laughter. Sherlock quickly moved Molly behind himself. “Have you informed Mummy yet? She will be so proud.”

Sherlock stiffened at the sight of his brother sitting in Sherlock’s black chair. He carefully guided Molly to sit on the couch as he moved to stand in front of Mycroft.

“You are not welcomed here, Mycroft. Please don’t let us detain you.” Sherlock moved to block Mycroft’s view of Molly.

“I thought after my assistance you would be more than happy to deal with a matter for me.”

“You have your own sniffer dogs. Use them.” Sherlock said. His posture lengthened as he stretched to his full height, to tower over seated man.

“This is requiring an outside eye. Leg work.” He shuttered at the thought. “There may be need of an independent investigator.”

“Don’t tell me you misplaced a memory stick again.” Sherlock huffed at his brother.

“Not a memory stick, an agent.” Mycroft swept his palm down his suit front as if to sweep away imaginary lint. “But I sincerely doubt Miss Hooper would be interested in our conversation, Sherlock.”

“Dr. Hooper will be staying put. If you are uncomfortable speaking in front of her, leave, and don’t come back.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and narrowed his lips at his brother. Sherlock remained standing glaring down at Mycroft.

“Dr. Hooper, I expect you to remain silent of anything you may or may not hear said in the next five minutes.”

“Certainly.” Molly said softly. Mycroft picked his brief case up off the floor and rested it on his lap.

“An undercover agent for MI5 had been infiltrating a group of international kidnappers and extortionist for the past six months. He had moved up within the group gaining valuable information regarding future kidnappings of international business men and politicians. Five days ago, he was to deliver information to his handlers. His body was found in Regent Park.” He opened the briefcase and removed a file, passing it to Sherlock. “As you see, he was questioned extensively. They probably did not get the information they were interested in because he died by cyanide poisoning. Self-inflicted.”

Sherlock flipped open the folder and looked at the autopsy photos. The man appeared to have been repeatedly branded by something. Numerous areas across his chest and arms showed the third degree burns. An object roughly seven centimeters by two centimeters was used. Numerous cuts were also evident. None of the injuries were life threating but were definitely agonizing.

“I need you to locate the information Peter Venucci had gathered. He sacrificed his life for this information and I need you to locate it.”

“I am occupied right now Mycroft. I won’t be able to assist you.”

“Sherlock!” Molly gasped. “You have too!”

Sherlock turned slowly to look as the woman on the couch. “Why?”

“Sherlock, it’s what you do. You solve the unsolvable. You find what no one else can find. Think of the lives you can save. I don’t get to do that. I’m just there to find out why someone died. You can stop someone from dying. Please, Sherlock.”

Sherlock turned back to look at his brother. Mycroft smiled as the cat in cream.

“Don’t look so smug Mister Holmes.” Molly stood, and walked around Sherlock. “You falsified sealed medical records. That is a felony offense in this country. I can report you to the authorities.” Mycroft pouted.

Sherlock sighed. “You can’t report him to the government Molly, he is the British government.”

The smile returned the man’s face as he stood. “Good evening Sherlock, Dr. Hooper. Please call Mummy with the good news of her grandchild.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case is loosely based on the Adventure of the Six Napoleons.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new case for Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because some one asked nicely, a new chapter. Enjoy. Description of a crime scene and a murder. Torture.

Chapter Sixteen

John Watson, contrary to what Sherlock Holmes says, was an observant man. The first thing he observed when he walked into 221B was the spider web pattern in the bullet proof window. The rifle round frozen in between the layers of film.

The next thing he observed was Molly and Sherlock. They sat at the table in the sitting room eating the English breakfast Mrs. Hudson had made for them. Molly was dressed in slacks and collard shirt, whereas Sherlock sat in his pajamas and one of his dressing gowns. Nothing unusual except as Sherlock read the newspaper, his left hand was wrapped around Molly’s right wrist. His thumb unconsciously rubbing circles across the back of her hand. There was a visible love bite on Molly’s neck barely hidden by the collar of her blouse. A slight blush colored Molly’s cheek bones and Sherlock was blatantly refusing to look at John.

Oh yes John Watson was an observant man.

“John why aren’t you at home with Mary and my god daughter Elizabeth?” Sherlock asked as he laid the paper down to turn the page instead of letting go of Molly’s wrist.

“Mary said I was hovering. I have been hovering for five weeks and I should let you take me out for a run. A run?” He raised an eyebrow at the detective. “Are you busy?”

Sherlock raised the paper higher to hide behind the print. “Yes.”

“No,” Molly said with a slight giggle. “He has turned down three different cases from Greg.”

“They were fours. Not worth my time.” Sherlock huffed.

“Sherlock, I’m going into Bart’s today. You should go out with John, find something to amuse you.”

He looked over the paper and glared at her.

“Molly you are recovering from being shot three weeks ago. You should stay here and amuse me.”

John saw Molly blush deeper as Sherlock’s glare turned predatory. John tried hard to not smile let alone laugh.

“I’m just doing paper work. I promise no cases.” She smiled at him. “I’ve got three weeks’ worth of reports to get through.”

“Then you will come right back here?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes.” He nodded and turned back to his paper.

His mobile pinged with a text message noticed. Sherlock looked down at it and then ignored it. John reached over and grabbed the mobile. He read the message.

“This one is an eight. Lestrade.” John read.

“A three.” Sherlock bemoaned.

“The attachment looks interesting.” John turned the screen around for Sherlock to see. The dark haired man quickly grabbed the mobile and looked through the few photos Lestrade sent along with the request.

“A six, maybe a seven.” Sherlock started to stand. “Maybe we should go and assist the Detective Inspector. Molly, call me when you get back tonight.”

The man dashed off to his bedroom to dress.

*****

The townhouse was on the northern edge of London. It looked like the other townhouse lining both sides of the street. Boring and unremarkable. Sherlock toyed with texting Mycroft to tell him there was already a clue in the investigation he brought him the night before, but Sherlock waited until he could see the body in person to be sure of his deductions.

As the two men walked under the police barricade tape, Sherlock started categorizing the clues before him. They stepped into the foyer of the brick townhouse and the smell of cooked meat was pronounced.

“I see your forensic team has destroyed valuable evidence.” Sherlock said as he looked down at the area rug in the front room.

It was a plush rug of royal blue. The pile matted down from numerous shoes walking over it. The room was full of polished antique furnishings and cream colored walls. A large mirror with a gold gilt frame hung over a fireplace. Across two walls were glass shelves displaying various ornate boxes. In front of one of the shelves was a cherry desk and a Chippendale chair. Tied to the chair was a dead man.

“Oh God.” John hissed when he saw the deceased. He had seen the picture Lestrade had sent them, but it had not prepared him for the first hand sight of the man.

The man in his mid-fifties was bare chested. In numerous places across his skin were blistered red marks of freshly branded skin. Bruise ran down his arms and his left hand was twisted grotesquely. The bones of the fingers and hand broken by a blunt object. The smell of roasted meat was obviously the dead man’s flesh.

Sherlock stepped up and kneeled down in front of him. He let his eyes move rapidly over the body then he took out his magnifying glass and went over the deceased again meticulously. The man wore pajama bottoms and was bare foot.

John held back staring at the dead man. He clenched his fist together behind his back and took up parade rest to maintain his composure. It was obvious to the former Army officer what had happened. He had seen similar things done to prisoners in Afghanistan. Torture. His eyes dashed over to the fireplace. The poker from the fire tool stand laid on the grates. The heat from the fireplace still warmed the room.

“John, your impressions?” Sherlock asked backing away from the body. John went and knelt down to look at the man’s face and torso. The injuries were numerous and excruciatingly painful, but not lethal.

“I believe he died of a heart attack brought on by the torture. He has creased earlobes and ringed irises, both physical indicators of heart disease.” John said as he stood back up. His voice rough as he tried to maintain his professionalism. “Obviously, he was branded by the heated poker, after they broke his hand. They probably used the poker for that too. It looks like they had to hit it several times.”

“At least eight times that I can count. They were questioning him. Looking for something.” Sherlock said as he moved over the cherry desk. On the blotter of the desk was the broken pieces of a wooden box with several mechanical metal parts. Sherlock bent over and used his magnifying glass to exam the broken bits. “A music box.” He shifted the broken wood and metal, then examined the small label attached to what must have been the bottom of the box.

“A what?” Lestrade asked, as he moved closer.

“A wooden music box. He was a collector. Who is he?”

“Dr. Mortimer Barnicot. He was a GP at Queen’s Hospital. No wife or family. Housekeeper found him this morning. He did not report for rounds this morning and staff were unable to reach him by phone. No sign of a break in. Neighbors heard nothing last night.”

“He probably died early this morning, after two or three. Levidity and rigor set time of death after midnight.” John said. Sherlock nodded as Lestrade wrote the information down in his note book.

There was a crash in the hallway and shouts from Anderson at one of his techs. Lestrade left the two men alone in the room with the dead man. Sherlock leaned over and with a pen started to separate out the various pieces of the music box.

“A music box? Why break that?” John asked.

“Dr. Barnicot was a collector. There are some very rare and valuable ones on those shelves.” Sherlock waved his hand towards them. John looked up and noticed the ornate boxes were in fact decorated music boxes. At least a dozen. “This one wasn’t even very valuable. Maybe fifty, or sixty quid. That one in the center is at least twenty thousand pounds.” John looked again at the box on the shelf. It was cherry with inlaid gold and silver. “Interesting. They were looking for something. They thought it was in the box and when they didn’t find it, they tortured the doctor to find out where it was.”

“What were they looking for?” John whispered.

“Information.” Sherlock said as he looked over at a note pad next to the blotter. The white paper had indentation on it from writing on a previous sheet of paper. Sherlock opened the drawer of the desk and pulled out a lead pencil. He shaded over the note paper, watching as the letters appeared. IOU. Sherlock glared at the three letters, then tore the sheet from the note pad and shoved the paper into his pocket. His chest tightened as memories moved forward in his mind.

“Sherlock? What was that?”

“Nothing. A note not regarding the case.” Sherlock mouth went dry. He stepped around the desk and pulled out his phone. He was texting as he walked out the room and up to Lestrade. “Not enough information to make any conclusions at this time. I don’t believe Dr. Barnicot knew his attackers but I am afraid there maybe more victims coming.”

“What?” Lestrade almost shouted.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Detective Inspector. I am sure I will be hearing from you tonight.”

Sherlock moved around the Inspector and headed to the street. John Watson close on his heels.

“Where are we going?” John asked.

“Gelder & Company. Music box makers.”

Sherlock texted his brother informing him he should acquire a copy of the investigation report of Dr. Mortimer Barnicot. It would assist in his inquires about his dead MI5 agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot for using music boxes comes from the movie, "Sherlock Holmes in Dressed to Kill" staring Basil Rathbone (1946)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More information about the cases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More information about the music boxes and Molly and Sherlock share a dinner. I'm trying to keep the plot of the cases going with developing relationship between the two of them.

Chapter Seventeen

Gelder & Company was a small shop on Earlham Street just off Neal. A small shop that smelled of wood shavings, metal filings, paint and age. The old man behind the counter was surrounded by music boxes of various shapes and design. The soft metallic songs played just outside one’s ability to recognize the tune.

As Sherlock opened the wooden door, the tinny bell rang announcing their entry into Gelder’s domain.

“Good afternoon,” Sherlock said to the old man. “I need to speak to the proprietor.”

“I am Nathan Gelder.” The man said.

“Good, I’m Sherlock Holmes. I am looking for a music box similar to one that I believe you sold to my friend, Mortimer Barnicot.”

“Oh, yes Dr. Barnicot is a frequent customer of ours. Which box were you specifically interested in.

“A small maple wood box with inlayed shell on the lid. I can’t remember the tune but I was most impressed with the workmanship of the box.”

The old Mister Gelder smiled and closed his eyes nodding. “Yes, I am familiar with the box you are speaking of. Beppo is quite the artist.”

“Beppo?”

“Yes, he is one of my craftsman. He is Italian. His work is highly praised by my customers.” The old man stepped around the counter and up to the wall just behind Sherlock and John. Mr. Gelder reached up and pulled a small maple box down and handed it to the detective.

It was roughly thirteen centimeters by seven by seven. The iridescent shimmer of seashell could be seen inlayed in the carved wooden top. The maple wood was highly polished and gave off a warm glow. It was indeed a beautiful box. Sherlock slowly opened the lid, but no sound came from inside.

“No mechanism?”

“I let my customers choose their tunes. I have a vast selection of music.” Mr. Gelder smiled at the detective. John looked around at the different music boxes and wondered if Mary wouldn’t like one too.

“What song had Dr. Barnicot chosen?” Sherlock asked.

“I will need to check my accounts ledger. Would you please wait?” Sherlock nodded and the old man tittered off behind the counter and over to a desk beside a door. Beyond the open door, Sherlock could see a work bench with various wood working tools and delicate dental instruments hanging on the wall. Wooden carcasses of small boxes litter the work bench.

“You make the boxes on the premise?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, many of my boxes are made right here. I have two other artisans beside Beppo who create my little masterpieces.” The man said as he shifted papers across his desk. His face wrinkled up in confusion.

“Is there a problem?” Sherlock asked.

“My ledger is missing. It has all the information about each box I sell. The artist, the buyer, the mechanism slipped in, and of course a description of each box. It’s missing.” The man was rummaging through the desk drawers.

Sherlock and John looked at each other. “Mister Gelder, how many identical boxes are there like this one?”

The old man looked up and stared at the box. “Ah . . . four, yes four boxes. I have sold three of them.”

“You have sold four. I will be taking this one.” Sherlock set the box down on the counter and reached for his wallet. The old man smiled and gave up his search for the ledger.

“Which tune would you like me to place inside your box?”

Sherlock looked down at the box then back up again at Mr. Gelder. “I’m indifferent about the mechanism. Whichever you think Dr. Barnicot would have installed in his.”

Mr. Gelder tapped a crooked finger on his lips, thinking. “Beethoven Moonlight Sonata.” The man gently picked up the box and carried it back to the work bench. John and Sherlock stood watching the man use the dental instruments to carefully insert the mechanical parts of the music box into cavity of the maple box. Mr. Gelder slowly walked back out to Sherlock and set the box on the counter. Lifting the lid the soft notes of the song started to play. The metal tines slowly being pulled up by the metal cylinder then dropped and reverberated. The melancholy song played slowly.

Sherlock nodded and smiled at the man. “Very good. Thank you.”

Stepping out onto the pavement, Sherlock and John walked down the narrow street to the major road. It was late in the afternoon and sun was getting low in the sky.

“Do you think it has something to do with the music boxes?” John asked.

“I do not have enough information to draw any reasonable conclusions. Making deduction without all the facts is folly John. You know my process.”

John nodded. “Then why did you buy the music box?”

“I thought Molly would like it.”

*****

Molly worked longer than she expected. It was late when she unlocked the front door of 221 Baker Street. As soon as the door opened she first smelled the baking bread from Mrs. Hudson’s flat, then there was the scent of ginger and citrus. She slowly climbed the stairs to Sherlock’s flat. It was getting harder for her to walk up the stairs. She could feel her abdomen shift, the baby getting bigger. She could work but her baby bump was noticeable now. She was almost five months pregnant.

She opened the door of the flat and there sitting on the coffee table were two plates of Pad Thai and mugs of tea. Molly stood in the open door way staring at the food. She had not realized how hungry she was until that very moment. Dropping her coat and her oversize purse on the floor she stepped further into the room.

Sherlock stepped around the corner of the archway from the kitchen with silverware and napkins in his hands.

“Ah, good you’re home. I ordered dinner thinking you would be hungry.” He said sitting down on the far end of the couch.

Molly stood dumbfound. ‘ _Sherlock had ordered dinner.’_ She thought. _‘Sherlock ordered dinner thinking I would be hungry. Sherlock thought of someone else. He thought of me!’_ A smile worked at the corners of her mouth as she slowly walked over and sat down next to the tall detective.

“Thank you Sherlock, this is very kind of you.” She noticed he was paying more attention to a file with crime scene photos than listening to her. Oh, well she couldn’t hope for a complete change of character, but would she want one either. She picked up the plate and started eating.

When she was done, she looked over and saw he had not eaten a bite the entire time. He was concentrating on the file. Reading and rereading pages and referring to photos. His lips in small pout as he flipped between the papers.

“Is that Mycroft’s case or the one from today?” She asked.

“Both.”

“Oh.” She stood and took the dirty plates to the kitchen. She carefully scooped his food back into the cartons, then sealed them back up. When she opened the refrigerator to put the food away, she saw the heart sitting on the shelf. “Sherlock! Where did this come from?”

“Well, obviously the morgue Molly. Think.”

“Who gave it to you?”

He paused in his reading and looked up. He could tell she was unhappy believing that someone from the morgue had supplied him with the organ. How was he going to tell her he just walked in and removed it from the unattended body?

“Ah, I can’t recall the person’s name. You know how I delete unimportant information.”

“Sherlock, do you know someone came into St. Bart’s and stole a heart from a cadaver slated for the medical student dissection?”

“Oh how interesting. Obviously a Uni student prank. Will probably turn up in some professor’s lunch bag one afternoon soon.”

“You better hope so,” she laughed softly. She knew exactly who had taken the heart. The same person who was taking hers right now. “I exhausted. Thank you for dinner. I’ll go up now.”

He turned quickly to look at her. “Go up? Why?”

“I . . . my bed is upstairs.” She felt her face blush slightly.

“Oh, well yes, but there is a bed on this floor. If you are exhausted, why not sleep there instead of climbing the steps. I mean, you can wear my t-shirt to sleep in.”

“You want me to sleep with you?”

Sherlock straightened himself on the couch. “Molly, I’m in the middle of two cases. I won’t be sleeping tonight or probably tomorrow night either.”

“Oh, okay.” She was exhausted and really just wanted to fall into bed, not climb up and down the stairs a few times as she ready herself for bed. She turned towards his bedroom and walked slowly down the hall. Her limbs shaky as she knew she was blushing brightly. A small smile covered her face when she realized she would get to fall asleep with the scent of Sherlock surrounding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter a little more smut.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gives in to his new addiction. Molly

Chapter Eighteen

It was passed three in the morning when Sherlock could no longer resist his new addiction. Anticipation sparked across his skin. He felt the craving of his new high, the knot in his stomach as his mouth watered. He carefully opened the door to his bedroom and stepped in as silently as he could. He stood looking down at the body in his bed. Molly was sleeping in one of his oldest t-shirts. The stretched knit fabric was so soft and worn, it formed perfectly to her body. Every curve and dip of her was visible to him.

Slowly, Sherlock undressed and laid down naked beside the woman. His long limbs reached for her. His palm pulled the edge of the shirt up so he could move his hand under the fabric and let his finger graze across her skin. She was warm and soft. Her skin smooth to his touch. Sherlock smiled as he buried his nose into her hair, nuzzling the long brown strands. He sighed as he breathed in her scent of almonds. Sweet and warm smells.

He could feel his heart beating faster, as his hand traveled slowly across her skin. This was new and different. A sensation he had not known before. Contrary to what had been said about him, he was not a virgin but neither was he the sex maniac Janie had claimed him to be in the tabloids. He was familiar with the female form but disappointed in previous encounters. Molly was anything but a disappointment. She was shy yet giving and surprisingly adventurist. She was definitely pregnant but somehow pure as well. She was the dichotomy Sherlock wanted. She was all he wanted.

After an hour of gentle touches, Sherlock felt relaxed and dosed lightly behind Molly. His palm resting on her belly, his cheek on the back of her head. An hour later, Molly tried to move but awoke as she was being held tight. She felt his solid body behind hers and the steady breathing of the man. She twitched in his arms and felt him shift in response.

“Sherlock?” she whispered into the dark.

“Good morning Molly.” His voice was deep and she felt it reverberate through his chest and into her.

“I should get up.”

“Not yet,” he let his hand move slowly up her stomach and cup her breast. “Tell me about an unusual place you would want to make love?”

She could feel her face warm as she blushed. “A place?” He hummed at her. “Well, I used to have a cousin who lived in the country. They had a farm and we would visit. I would play with Jasper in the barn.”

“Stop there.” He said. He lightly squeezed her breast, then let his thumb rub over the nipple, bring it to attention. “Yes, I can work with that. Close your eyes Molly.” She did as she was told. His voice dark and rich, moved over her, surrounded her, and covered her. “Yes, I could see you laying naked in the hay in a loft. The sound of animals below us. The fear of being discovered. You would be laying at my feet. Your hair tangled with straw. I would be standing above you holding my crop, my shirt unbuttoned, tight ridding breeches and a pair of tall black riding boots.”

Molly sighed as the image playing in her head. An image just as he described. His dark raven curls in disarray, a stern look on his face as he towered over her body. His bare chest just barely visible to her.

“But I think I might want to restrain you. Keep my wild little creature still for my needs, my wants.” He dipped his mouth to place open mouth kisses to her through the thin fabric. He bit lightly on the point of her shoulder. Molly gasped at the quick sharp pleasurable pain. “Yes, I would tie your hands with a length of leather, like the reins of a bridle.” He slipped his hands down her arms and grabbed her wrists, then carefully raised them to the head board of the bed. He guided her hands to grip the underside of the head board and tightened on them; letting her know she was not to move them till he said so.

“I would strip off my clothes while you watched. Listen to your pleas as I let my hands move over your skin.” He brought his right hand back to abdomen and his left moved under her body and around to hold her throat in a loose grasp. “I would discover how many sounds I could pull from your body.” Slowly his right hand moved down till he could scratch lightly at the soft curly hair of her mound. Molly gasped. Sherlock let his long middle finger slip between her folds and slow started rubbing and flicking at the sensitive tissue there.

Molly gripped the head board tighter. Her mind lost in the fantasy of being controlled by Sherlock in a hay loft. She didn’t even noticed how wet she was until she felt Sherlock’s cock moving slowly back and forth between her tightly closed thighs.

“Then I would turn you over. Put you on your hands and knees. Mount you like the horses do. Take you from behind.”

Molly started rocking her hips to the sound of voice and feel of his hard length between her thighs. She moaned and felt herself want nothing more than to be taken as he was describing.

“Is that what you want Molly, to be my English mare? To let me control you, ride you, hard?” He rolled his spine as he lifted her right thigh, with just the slightest push he entered her. Molly gasped as she felt the breech. She started panting, her arms ached as the pushed against the head board to shove herself down on to Sherlock.

“Yes, please!” Her voice lost in gasping need.

Sherlock dropped his forehead to the back of Molly’s head as he quickened his pace. Gripping her right hip to give himself leverage. His left arm now wrapped around her torso, holding her tight to him.

She could hear him now talking so softly, a quiet litany of words only for his own pleasure. Curses as well as ‘beautiful’, and ‘perfect’ between gasps and moans. His right hand returned to her mound and that clever finger to its stroking. Molly quickly felt herself moving to the edge. The fire building and roaring to life inside her body. The sound of his deep voice still echoing in her mind. With her eyes shut, she had spent the climb in darkness, then a sudden bright light, blinding her as she peaked and fell into ecstasy. Her breathing rapid and shallow. Her body shuddering with pleasure.

Sherlock groaned loudly as his gave a final deep push into Molly’s body. His arms pulling her tight to his body. Their skin slipping against each other as it was slick with sweat. He felt the warmth pour out of him and fill her. He was so content he was almost laughing with it.

The two people laid in the bed panting. Sherlock gently pulled Molly’s arms back down from the head board and wrapped her tight to him. He raised up and leaned over to place a chaste kiss to her temple.

“Thank you Molly.”

“No I think I should thank you. That is the best wakeup call I’ve ever had.” She laughed softly. “Ah, Sherlock do you know how to ride horses?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a pair of those black boots?”

He hummed as a smug smile coved his face.

*****

They laid together waiting for the sun to creep around the corners of the curtains and fill the room with deep gold light.

“Sherlock I really do need to get up and shower now.” He squeezed her once then let go.

“I’ll wash your back.” He said as he pulled himself from the bed and held out his hand to help her up.

In the shower, the warm water felt wonderful over their skin. Sherlock pulled Molly’s back into his chest. His right hand held a flannel as he pour bath gel into it. He slowly rubbed Molly’s pregnant belly as he enjoyed listening to her hum.

“You’re over half way done with your pregnancy. Five months.” He said looking over her shoulder and down at her stomach.

“Yes, I’ve got to get going. There are so many things I need to do.”

“Like what?”

“Well, to start with, I need to find a flat for the baby and me. I don’t know if I can stay in London. It will be so expensive for us. Then I need to buy a crib and baby clothes. And furniture.”

Sherlock’s hands stopped moving, as he lifted his head.

“There’s no reason for you to find a flat. You should live here. It makes the most reasonable sense to do so.” He didn’t want to consider his new addiction leaving.

“Here?” Molly practically yelped.

“Yes, Molly. We will change John’s old room into a nursery.”

“A nursery?”

“Yes, it would best. Honestly Molly there is not a single argument I can find for you not living here with me.”

“With you?”

“Please quit repeating everything I say. It is quite annoying.”

Molly turned around and stared up at the man. Her eyes wide with surprise.

“Sherlock you cannot honestly believe it is a good idea for me to move in here with you.”

He stepped back, retreating as best he could in the crowded tub. Molly watched as Sherlock’s blue green eyes changed from open and friendly to cold and shut off. “Yes, I see no impediments. Are you saying you would not want to be here with me?”

“No! More than anything in the world, Sherlock, I want to be with you.”

“I am hearing a ‘but’ coming.” He stood tall readying himself for the emotional slap to the face. How had he miscalculated this? Molly was going to leave him, just like John, just like everyone else.

“Sherlock you are a genius and wild and adventurous and wonderful. Everything that makes you who you are, I love.” His heart betrayed him by beating faster at the declaration. “But babies can’t live in wild, adventurous worlds. They need calm and quiet and schedules all the things you despised. A baby here would be a distraction you would not want.” He had not thought about the actual presence of a child. The baby was still an abstract concept to him. Just a condition Molly was presently in. She was right, a baby would interfere with the Work.

Molly moved to turn off the water taps and grab a towel. Sherlock reached for her hands. He still did not want to lose her. He didn’t want to go.

“If you wish to not live in 221B would you consider 221C?”

“221C?”

“You’re repeating again.”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, 221C. I heard Mrs. Hudson prattle on the other day about fixing it up and renting it. It would be immensely practical for you. 221 Baker Street has a garden in the back. Regent Park is two blocks away for stroll with the baby. You would have two baby sitters at your disposal with Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner. And you would be available to me.”

“To you?” He tipped his head and glared down at her. “Sorry.” She winced.

“Dr. Molly Hooper, I have come to the realization that I actually enjoy your presence in my sphere. I find I need for you to be close to me. I do not want you to leave. I am willing to alter my behavior to keep you here. Tell me what I need to change to induce you to stay.”

“Sherlock I don’t want you to alter anything. I don’t want you to change.” She smiled and leaned up onto her toes. “I love you too.” She kissed his lips quickly before leaning back. Molly saw confusion on his face change into a bright and beautiful smile.

He reminded himself as they dressed, to talk to Mrs. Hudson about paying for the refurbishing of 221C.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case progresses on.

Chapter Nineteen

Molly had caught a taxi for St. Bart’s when Sherlock got the text from Lestrade of another crime scene. Sherlock quickly texted John and gave him the address in East Dulwich and off he went feeling more alive than he had in two and half years.

The houses along Dunstan’s Road were two story attached with long back gardens. The brick houses were close to the street with small covered front porches. The street was not blocked but the police presence was moving up and down the pavement.

Lestrade was waiting at the door as Sherlock and John walked up the short walk. Donavan stood behind the DI with her arms crossed over her chest glaring at the two men.

“Where is the body?” Sherlock asked.

“No body this time.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Lestrade’s statement. “Just a break in and vandalism.”

“That’s not your department if I recall.”

“No but there is something interesting about this break in.” The DI turned and walked into the house. “The woman who owner of the house, Florence Harker, was involved in a motor vehicle accident. She was walking out of Denmark Hill station and stepped off the kerb in front of a taxi. Witnesses at the scene said it was her fault. Was texting and just stepped right out into traffic. She’s at King’s College Hospital now, broken leg. Neighbors called in the break in.”

The three men walked through the wreckage of the house. Every drawer had been pulled out and dumped: every shelf cleared of its belongings. Broken glass, clothes and papers covered the floors of each room. Lestrade walked into a bedroom on the first floor. On the floor beside the bed, was the remains of a maple music box. Sherlock squatted down by the broken wooden box. With a pen he pushed the bits and pieces of the music box around till be found the label. With a pair of tweezers, he carefully picked up the label and held it out for John and Lestrade to read. Gelder & Company.

“So what do we have? Some kind of nut job that hates music boxes or Gelder & Company. Do you think if she had been here, they would have tortured her too?”

“We have reason to believe we are dealing with a group of highly organized criminals.”

Donovan huffed and crossed her arms staring at the man. “Organized?! Have you seen this crime scene? It was a bunch of kids.”

“Donovan, even you must see the organized search of this house. Every drawer and every surface was checked. There is jewelry in the pile in this room. The music box was broken first, then they moved on to the rest of the house.” He stood and moved to look in the other bedroom then the bathroom.

In the bathroom he saw the pills from the medicine cabinet poured out into the sink. “Do you honestly think kids would leave drugs behind, let alone a television or anything else they could sell?” He looked up into the mirror and noticed the smear on the mirror. Sherlock leaned forward and breathed heavy onto the glass, fogging it. The three letters became visible. IOU.

Sherlock swallowed seeing the letters. He leaned back blinking repeatedly.

“IOU, that’s just like . . .”

“John, we need to go.” Sherlock interrupted his friend. “Lestrade, check the mirror for finger prints.” Sherlock pushed his way out of the bathroom and walked quickly out of the house. John rushed to keep up with him. He moved down the pavement to the busy cross street. Waving his arm, a taxi pulled over and the two men jumped into the back seat.

“Sherlock, that note you found at the first scene. . .” John started to ask.

“It wasn’t the first crime scene. There was a murder in Regent Park three days before the Barnicot was killed.”

“Does Lestrade know about that one?” John asked in a hushed whisper leaning over into Sherlock’s space.

“No and he won’t learn about it either. Mycroft brought me the case the night before Lestrade called us.”

“So what is going on?”

*****

Molly had finished one pile of reports and sighed heavily as she pulled the second pile closer to herself. It had been a long day and it just seemed to be getting longer. She didn’t even noticed the man standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Dr. Hooper?”

“Yes,” she said looking up expecting a medical student. Instead there was a man in his late forties. Tall and blond, with dark blue eyes. Dark like the ocean. He was tan and broad shouldered. A rough skin with a prominent scar reaching over his brow and disappearing into his blond hair. He was dressed in a dark suit, well-tailored but not overly expensive.

“I’ve been told you need to come with me.” He said. He had a slight lilting accent Molly couldn’t place.

“Who told you?” She asked getting nervous. She didn’t know this man and he didn’t look like the normal security guards at the hospital.

“Mr. Holmes, Mycroft Holmes. His brother has been injured and is requesting your presence.” The man said.

Molly jumped to her feet and rushed over to grab her purse and coat. The stranger saw her pregnant belly and a quick knowing smile came and left his lips. “What happened? Is he here at the hospital?”

“I have not been informed as to his actual injuries. And no, he is not here. He is at a secure site. I need to take you there.” Molly walked up the man and looked up at him. He towered over her. She noticed once she got closer the scar on his forehead was recent. The edges still slightly pink from healing.

He turned and let her walk first from the office and out into the halls of St. Bart’s. He grabbed hold of her elbow and directed her to the entrance of the Pathology department. Molly noticed he walked like John. Very straight and tall but loose and relaxed. Out on the pavement, he waved a hand up in the air and a taxi approached.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“Can’t tell you.” He said.

Molly thought it was an odd thing to say, since he was going to be giving the address to the taxi driver.

“MOLLY!”

She heard the familiar voice calling to her from the left. Molly turned to see Sherlock and John rushing across the pavement towards her and the man.

“SHERLOCK?!”

The man gripped harder on Molly’s elbow as the taxi stopped. He reached in his jacket and pulled out a handgun from a shoulder holster. Swinging it quickly at the detective and the doctor. Molly screamed ‘no’ and tried to push the man away from her. She jostled him enough that the first round missed its target.

“Stop it!” The man yelled at Molly. Sherlock lunged to the side to avoid the bullet as he looked up and saw the man shove Molly down. She screamed as she fell to the pavement. Her hands sprawled out in front of herself.

“MORAN!” Sherlock shouted at the man.

Sebastian Moran looked up from the woman he had just knocked down to glare at the detective who was back on his feet and running at him. Moran leapt into the taxi and it sped off down the street.

Sherlock bent over Molly and carefully picked her up. “Are you alright?!”

“Yes, I think so.” She looked down at her bloodied hands, cut and scrapped on the ground. Her trousers were torn at the knee and her elbow hurt from his tight grip. “Yeah, I just need to sit down.”

“No into A and E. I want you thoroughly checked out!”

“Sherlock I’m fine. Tell him John.”

The army doctor was already going over Molly’s injuries before she spoke. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and was carefully dapping at the cuts on her hand.

“Molly, you need to go to A and E. Did you hit your stomach on the ground?”

She looked up into John’s concerned eyes.

“No I caught myself. We’re fine.”

“Just a quick check over Molly.” John said encouraging the woman to step back into the hospital.

“Molly why were you going off the Moran?” Sherlock asked as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pushed her along.

“Moran? He told me Mycroft sent him. He said you were hurt and asking for me.” She said feeling a little dizzy now.

“That was Sebastian Moran. He was trying to kidnap you.”

“Oh?” Suddenly, Molly’s legs gave way and she started to slip to the ground. Sherlock grabbed her and kept her upright.

“No time for this,” he said and quickly snatched her up and into a bridal hold. Carrying her back into the hospital and down to A and E.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments. They make me so happy.

Chapter Twenty

Molly was released from the hospital and told to go home and rest. Sherlock and John brought Molly back to flat. Mycroft was already waiting for them when they entered.

“Mycroft, you are not welcome here. It took me two weeks to clear all the cameras last time you were here. Leave.”

“Sherlock, I thought you would welcome my assistance. Especially now that Colonel Moran has returned from the dead.”

“He never was dead. Your men didn’t do their job the first time.”

Molly stepped around the men and sat down on couch. She bent over and held her head in her hands. John noticed her and moved to sit next to her. Sherlock stood and watched his pair of friends.

“Molly are you okay?” He asked as he gently stroked her back.

“I just realized how close that could have been. He could have shot me again.” She said.

“Let me get you a cup of tea.” John said as he stood and moved to the kitchen.

“Yes, John. I think tea would be lovely.” Mycroft called out.

“Shut it Mycroft, you’re leaving. Remember.” John called out as he filled the kettle. Sherlock smirked.

“Sherlock, you know why Molly wasn’t shot. Are you going to tell her?” Mycroft said ignoring John’s comment. Molly’s head popped up and she glanced back and forth between the two brothers.

Sherlock didn’t answer him. Instead he moved and sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft and glared.

“Why didn’t he shoot me, Sherlock?” Molly asked.

“You’re carrying a Holmes. Sherlock’s illegitimate child. You’re more valuable as leverage against Sherlock than punishment with your death.” Mycroft said coldly.

Molly’s hand rapidly went to cover her stomach as her other hand covered her mouth. Sherlock narrowed his gaze at his brother.

“You can leave now Mycroft or I can pick you up and throw you out the window.”

“You’re not high now Sherlock. I don’t you believe you have it in yourself. Besides, you know I am correct. You have place Dr. Hooper in the awkward position of having a target on her back.”

John stepped back into the room and went to sit next to Molly. He set the mug of tea on the table in front of her as he wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

“Colonel Moran had already try to kill me once, Mr. Holmes. I believe I already have a target on my back, my pregnancy hasn’t changed that.”

“No but as I stated. You and your child can be used against Sherlock. You are a liability.”

Sherlock twitched ever so slightly.

“Dr. Hooper has never been a liability.” Sherlock said through clinched teeth.

“Sherlock?” Molly looked up at the man. She wanted to look into his eyes and be reassured she wasn’t hurting him. “Am I?”

Sherlock turned to look at her briefly then turned away. He could not lie to her.

“I will make arrangements to have Dr. Hooper removed from London, until you are able to complete your mission.” Mycroft started to stand.

“Molly will not be leaving. You will not take her from me.” Sherlock scowled at his brother.

“Sherlock, you need to find the information I sent you after Dr. Hooper’s kidnap attempt by Moran. She will distract you from your mission. I can not have that.”

“I am not one of your agents. I am not on a mission. Molly will not be leaving my presence. That is final.”

Molly swallowed as she watched the two brothers argue about her as if she wasn’t even in the room. She could feel John becoming angry next to her. Her own temper was beginning to flare.

“Stop it! Both of you, just stop it!” Molly shouted standing up. “This is my child and not anyone else’s. I don’t care what people think.”

The three men stared at her. She was shaking and scared.

“I am not some helpless damsel in distress, I am an intelligent licensed physician. I can protect myself and my child. Mr. Holmes, I have heard what you had to say so please just leave now. I will not be going with you, I will not be needing your assistance.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as Molly spoke. Sherlock smiled.

“Sherlock, I am not an object you can put up on a shelf and ignore. I will not be told where I can and can’t stay. I am not going to be used as leverage against you. I will not harm you. I won’t. It would be best if I leave.”

Sherlock’s smile disappeared. Molly stepped around John’s knees and moved quickly up the stairs to the spare bedroom. The three men heard the door slam.

“Gestational hormones?” Mycroft asked the room.

“Obviously.” Sherlock answered. John bowed his head and shook it, sighing heavily.

*****

Molly started pulling her clothes from the wardrobe and laying them on the bed. Tears slid down her face. Distance, she needed distance. Not just for herself but for Sherlock’s safety too. She had no idea of where to go. She thought first of John and Mary, then she remember baby Elizabeth. She couldn’t go there.

Maybe she could go to one of her colleague’s homes for a short time. But she couldn’t think of anyone from work she was overly close with. Greg Lestrade, maybe he could help. He was recently divorced and he had a spare bedroom for when his kids came over for a visit. She could call Greg.

The knock on the door was very soft. She almost didn’t hear it.

“Molly? May I come in?”

Molly closed her eyes and blinked away the tears that were threating there. She pulled the door open and saw Sherlock standing there holding a small wooden box in his hands.

“I got this for you yesterday, but forgot to give it to you last night.”

It was the maple music box he had purchased from Gelder & Company. Molly gently pulled the box from his hands and moved to sit down on the bed. Sherlock noticed the clothes spread out across the duvet and pouted slightly before he sat down next to her.

“It’s a music box. I thought maybe you would like it.”

She opened the ornate lid and the mechanism started to play. The soft music played as Molly sighed and leaned into Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Sherlock, it’s beautiful.”

She turned and looked up into his face.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She leaned up and gently placed a kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, she saw the detective’s face remain in its pout.

“I’m sorry if I have ignored you or made you feel anyway unwanted. You are not. You have become very important to me.” Sherlock sighed and took Molly’s hands in his. “Don’t leave. Please Molly, I don’t want you to leave.”

“But Sherlock you’ve always said you couldn’t have any distractions. Mycroft said I was preventing you from working.”

“Mycroft’s an idiot. I would be more distracted if you left.”

“Sherlock.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her mouth. He never kissed her, just to kiss her. It always led to having sex, but now he didn’t want to have sex. He wanted her to know he needed her. He wanted her. She was an important part of his life now and she couldn’t leave thinking it would keep him safe. Her leaving would destroy him.

“Stay. We will work together to keep you and the baby safe.”

“Oh Sherlock, I just . . .”

The music stopped as the spring ran down. With an audible click the box moved in Molly’s hand. The two people looked down to see a small panel on the box had opened and revealed a small concealed space. A small piece of paper fell from the hiding space and into Molly’s hand.

Molly carefully set the box down and unfolded the paper. The three letters sliced through Sherlock’s psyche like a hot knife through butter.

I.O.U.

“Sherlock, what’s this?”

The man just stared at the note.

“Sherlock, what does it mean?”

“That Moriarty is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late here and I haven't proof read this chapter very well so please forgive any glaring mistakes. I've got two more chapters done and trying to work on the next adventure for our two. I also read an interview of Andrew Scott who said he really enjoys fanfiction. Interesting.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock explains the purpose of the music boxes.

Chapter Twenty-one

John and Sherlock walked up the steps to the house in Bethnal Green. In the taxi on the way over to the London suburb, he hoped they had arrived before the killers. Early that day Sherlock, Greg and John had met with Mister Gelder again.

Mister Gelder was the only person in his small shop just off Covent Garden. The elderly man was still wearing his black wool suit and red tie. His face was seemed more exhausted than before with dark circles under his eyes.

“Sir, did you ever find your ledger with your customers’ names?” Sherlock asked as the three men entered the small shop. Crowded into the limited space not taken up by the various music boxes.

“No, I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t find it.” The old man threw his hands up in surrender.

“Tell me, did each box that Beppo made have the secret compartment or just the one I purchased?” Lestrade and John turned to look at Sherlock. This was information was new to them.

“Oh yes. That was one of the request made by the commissioner. Beppo was to have the door open when the music ended. Mister Emery insisted.” Mr. Gelder smiled as he talked. His watery blue eyes twinkled.

“Who is Mister Emery?” asked Sherlock.

“Julian Emery, he came in about two months ago and ordered a specially constructed music box. Beppo built four boxes based on his requirements. Each box was slightly different lid design from the others, that way when Mr. Emery came to collect his box, he would have a selection to choose from.” Sherlock nodded.

“Now tell me what happened here at your store just before Mister Emery collected his box?”

“My, what a frightening day. I was never so scared in my whole life. Right there in front of the door. Can you believe it? The man was just in my store, then stepped out on to the pavement and was arrested. The officer who came in afterwards told us he was a domestic terrorist.”

Sherlock leaned forward watching the animated Mr. Gelder tell the story. The older man was quite florid in his description of the arrest. Lestrade pulled his phone from his pocket and texted someone. John stood dumbfounded listening. He felt he had missed out on a whole conversation and was only joining it half way through.

“Where were the music boxes for Mister Emery when the man burst into your store?” Sherlock asked.

“They were sitting here waiting for Mister Emery.” He pointed to his desk. “Beppo had them lined up and was checking the mechanism on them before Mister Emery arrived. He walked in just as the other man stepped out and was standing on the pavement in front. As Beppo is showing the boxes to Mister Emery, the police arrive and arrested the stranger. Very troubling, I was quite beside myself afterwards. They searched the entire store.”

The detective thanked the old man and nodded to his friends. Sherlock, Lestrade and John left the store and headed to Lestrade’s car.

“Okay what was all that about?” John asked. “How did you know about the man getting arrested?”

“There is no record of anyone being arrested in front of that store ever. What is going on Sherlock?”

“The man was an agent for MI5. He had been undercover infiltrating an extortion ring on the continent. The leaders of the ring discovered he was an agent and sent killers after him. He was running and had to hide the information he had on a memory stick. He just happened to run into the store and was probably going to hide it in one of the music boxes. He saw the four boxes with the hidden compartments and used one of them. It was the criminal ring that faked his arrest. He died while being tortured for the information. The same information he hid in the music boxes.” Sherlock was texting as he spoke.

“Were they the same killers who broke into Barnicot’s and Hawker’s homes? Why?” Lestrade asked?

“Obviously, they stole Mr. Gelder’s ledger with the information about who bought the boxes. They went to Barnicot and destroyed the box looking for the memory stick. When they didn’t find it, they tortured the doctor to see if he had found it first. They would have done the same thing to Hawker if she wasn’t already in hospital. There are four boxes. We know the whereabouts of three. Julian Emery has the forth. We have to believe the killers know he has it too. We must get to him before they do.”

*****

John and Sherlock walked up the path to Julian Emery’s house hoping against hope they have arrived before someone else was murdered. Sherlock knocked on the red painted door while looking up and down the street of older homes. It was an older established neighborhood. Mostly retirees living here. The security team Mycroft sent was hidden but still visible to Sherlock’s keen eye.

“Coming, coming just wait!” The two men could hear the shouts from behind the locked door. A wave of relief passed through John. No dead bodies waited for them on the other side of the door. The loud clank of a dead bolt being disengaged and the door opened on a brass chain. An old man in his late seventies looked out over the chain and huffed at the two men standing on the stoop.

“What do you want?” He asked suspiciously.

“Mister Emery, my name is Sherlock Holmes. I need to ask you some question about a music box.” Sherlock said.

“I don’t know anything about a music box. Go away.” The man snapped back at the detective.

Sherlock and John quickly glanced at each other.

“Sir, I’m a friend of Mortimer Gelder and he told me you had a music box made by the artist Beppo. I am will to pay handsomely for it.” Sherlock said dipping his voice down to a lower register.

“How much?” the man asked.

Sherlock pushed his lips out in a false pout and tipped his head from side to side. “What about ninety pounds.”

“I spent more than that on it.” The man said. Suddenly from farther inside the house a shrilly woman’s voice cut over the man’s.

“You are such a liar Wilber. You know Julian bought the box not you.”

The door closed and the sound of the chain being pulled from the latch could be heard, then the door opened again. A small woman of comparable age to the old man stood beside him. She was less than five feet tall, white haired and hunched over with a dowager’s hump.

“Are you a collector like Julian?” she asked.

“Yes.” Sherlock said. “Is Julian here? I would like to speak to him.”

“Oh no, he is in Cardiff with his girlfriend. He’s going to propose today. He has it all planned. They are going to the Dr. Who Experience and he will ask her there.” She smiled showing several gaps in between her teeth.

“Is he going to put the ring in the secret compartment to surprise her?” Sherlock whispered conspiratorly with the woman.

She giggled and nodded her head. “Yes, you know about the music box?”

“I was visiting the shop before Julian came and pick the box up. Something very valuable to me was lost and the only place we haven’t look was the music box Julian took. I was hoping to see if it was in there.” Sherlock lied so convincingly.

“Julian took the box with him.” The man snapped at them.

“Do you mean the key fob?” The woman asked. Sherlock twitched at the description.

“Yes, it was my father’s. If you know where he has put it . . .” Playing on the old woman’s sympathies.

“How much will you give us for it?” The man asked. The woman slapped his elbow and turned around still calling out to Sherlock.

“I have it right here.” She said as she pulled it from a bowl sitting on the table next to the door. She toddled back to the door and held out the memory stick to Sherlock. “Julian found it when he showed us how the box worked. He was quite upset to think that man let someone else messed with his music box.”

“Well, Beppo was showing me how it worked. We did not damage the box in any way.” Sherlock said as he carefully slipped the memory stick from the old woman’s hand. “Thank you. I was so upset that I had lost father’s key fob.”

“Well, what about a reward?” The elder man prodded.

“Yes of course.” Sherlock pulled out his wallet. The older woman slapped her husband’s arm again.

“Wilber, no!” She said.

“That other man was going to give us hundred quid for the box.” Wilber chastised his wife.

“The other man?” asked John. “A tall blond, tan, muscular looking?” Anxiety pumped through John thinking the killer had been there to hurt the elderly couple.

“Oh no, he was shorter than your friend here. He had dark hair and was pale with very dark eyes. Very polite. Was a friend of Julian’s.” She answered. “Had an accent.”

“Irish.” Wilber stated interrupting his wife.

John and Sherlock looked at each other. Sherlock pulled two fifty pound notes from his wallet and handed them to Mrs. Emery.

“Thank you so very much Madame. You have been so very gracious.” Sherlock gave his broad fake smile that made John cringe. Wilber Emery grabbed the two notes before his wife could refuse them. “Good day to you both and congratulations on Julian’s engagement.”

John and Sherlock walked quickly down the path and back out to the road. Sherlock had pulled out his phone as was rapidly typing a message to Mycroft. The man’s agents needed to get to Julian Emery and his fiancé before they were interrupted by killers.

As Sherlock and John walked back down the main thoroughfare, Sherlock’s mobile pinged with a text message. He pulled it out and read the message. A devious smile covered his face.

“What is it? What have you done?” John asked watching his friend.

“Molly. I found the perfect way to keep her from leaving the flat while I was away.”

Sherlock handed the phone to John to read the series of messages the detective had been receiving all morning.

‘ _Sherlock, your parents are here.’ MH_ 0900 15-8-14

 _‘Get back here now!’ MH 0923_ 15-8-14

 _‘Where are you? Get back here.’ MH_ 1000 15-8-14

 _‘They are asking questions I can’t answer. Please come back’ MH_ 1115 15-8-14

‘ _She fixing me lunch.’ MH_ 1200 15-8-14

 _‘They won’t leave. Help me.’ MH_ 1230 15-14

 _‘Sherlock, they’re planning our wedding!’ MH_ 1400 15-8-14

“It looks like we need to get back to Baker Street I believe.” Sherlock said raising an eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly's got her hands full with Mummy and Daddy Holmes. I love Benedict Cumberbatch's real parents play the characters in the show. Next chapter up soon.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful biology lessons ahead. Don't worry there won't be a test afterwards.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sherlock and John arrived at Baker Street to be overwhelmed by Mummy and Daddy Holmes. Mummy was bubbly and excited about Molly and baby. She went on about names and color schemes for nurseries. She talked about schools and prams. Sherlock stood ramrod straight, his face maintained its mask of indifference, as his mother cooed about baby showers.

“Mummy, this isn’t what you think. You shouldn’t get your hopes up.” Sherlock said as he pulled back from his mother’s embrace. Molly sat quietly in the corner of the room blushing.

“Oh my little darling, this is what every mother wants. To be a grandmother. I can’t tell how happy I am that you finally found that one special woman. Especially after that horrid little tramp that made up all those terrible lies.”

Molly ducked her head. The thought that Sherlock’s mother disliked Janie as much as Molly did, made the doctor finally relieved to have the two elderly Holmes there. A small smile came to her.

“We can have the wedding in the garden at the house.” Violet said waving her hands. Timothy Holmes shook his head in agreement. A broad smile covered his face.

“Wedding!” Sherlock almost shouted. Molly’s head looked up in utter terror at the man. “Mummy I think you are miss reading the situation. Molly and I . . .”

“What dear? Molly and you what?” His mother’s bright blue eyes looked up at him quizzical.

“I think what Sherlock is trying to tell you is that we will not be getting married. I am in fact going to moving out once the flat down stairs is ready.” Molly said standing. Her voice quivered as she tried to not flee from the room.

“What?” Violet looked crushed. Sherlock tried to maintain his composure as he felt the same disappointment inside his chest.

“It’s for the best. I would only be getting in Sherlock’s way. His work is what is most important to him.”

“A child is what is most important. Sherlock, don’t make me cross with you. You know better than this.” Violet scolded. Sherlock dropped his gaze.

He wanted to tell Molly she didn’t have to leave. He was willing to change. He was willing to make exceptions for her and the baby. Sherlock wanted to believe she was just saying these things so not to hurt him. He didn’t want to consider Molly had gotten over wanting him in her life. That she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her.

The man standing in the doorway cleared his throat and everyone turned to see Mycroft standing, leaning slightly on his umbrella. He let his eyes travel over the people in the room. His father who was eager to follow his wife, his mother who was disappointed, Molly blushing and Sherlock with his head bowed as small child reprimanded.

“All just like old times.” Mycroft said lyrically. “Let me guess. Molly and Sherlock are refusing to cooperate again.”

“Mycroft, you must talk so sense into you brother. God knows you won’t ever find anyone. Sherlock has found a wonderful woman to marry, who he obviously is in love with.” Sherlock’s head snapped up as Molly squeaked again. “And she won’t fight for him. Get these young people under control.”

“Mummy, in thirty years, I’ve never been able to get Sherlock under control.” Mycroft smiled and slowly blinked his eyes. “I have a car waiting for you downstairs. If you are ready to leave now? The driver is instructed to take you over to the London Eye. I’ve arranged a private tour.”

Timothy Holmes smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Come along Violet, let’s go and let these young people work it out amongst themselves. We will be planning on a Spring wedding. Plenty of time before the baby comes.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but his parents finally left. Sherlock, Molly and Mycroft waited till they heard the outside door close before they each took a deep breath and sighed.

Mycroft stepped over and sat down in John’s old chair and waited for Sherlock to calm down before he spoke.

“Do you have something for me, brother?”

“After you supply me with some information.”

Mycroft leaned further back in the chair and sighed dramatically. “As you wish.”

“James Moriarty.”

“Dead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Sherlock, he was autopsied.”

“My records showed I was too.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. Molly had falsified those records for Sherlock after he had faked his death.

“Unlike your autopsy, I was present for Moriarty’s. I watched as his brain was removed from his skull, weighted and dissected. He is dead.”

“Are you sure it was Moriarty?” Sherlock leaned forward in his chair.

“The fingerprints from the corpse match the fingerprints of the man arrested in the Tower of London. His DNA matches the DNA of the man I had detained months before. The same man. DNA and fingerprints don’t lie. One man, one set of DNA.” Mycroft glared at his brother.

“That’s not true.” Molly said from her seat on the couch. Both men turned and looked at her. “I mean two people can have identical DNA.”

“Dr. Hooper that is ridiculous. Everyone knows DNA is specific to an individual.”

Molly swallowed and tried to sit up straighter. She felt she was being called before her main proctor again in school.

“Well, no that’s not exactly correct. There are two different types of DNA, nucleic and mitochondrial. Nucleic is half the mother’s and half the father’s. Mitochondrial in solely maternal DNA. Siblings with the same mother will have the same mitochondrial DNA. Occasionally there are transcription errors, making the DNA different by one or two base pairs but otherwise they are identical.”

“I assure you we tested the nucleic DNA.” Mycroft said.

“Yes, well, if you have twins, you can have maternal twins which occur if two different eggs are fertilized by two different sperm. Then you have two twins with different DNA. As much as 80% difference. But if you have one egg and one sperm fertilized then it divides and separates into two different morula that embed independently in the placenta, then you have identical twins.”

“But identical twins still have different DNA.” Sherlock added.

“Yes but as little as only 15%. But if a single zygote matures into a blastosphere and implants in the placenta, and the placenta sac forms, then divides into two different blastocysts, you have chorionic amniotic twins. They will have identical DNA. But the weird thing is they will have different fingerprints.”

Sherlock sat staring at the doctor. He suddenly shook his head. “Mycroft, was the fingerprints of the dead Moriarty checked with the fingerprints of the one you had in custody months before?”

“We saw no need. How rare are these chorionic amniotic twins?”

“Very.” Molly said. “But they are perfect identical twins.”

“Two of them. One who never got his hands dirty and one who was constantly in my way. One who stayed in the shadows and one who sought me out to show himself.” Sherlock stood and started pacing around the sitting room. Mycroft pulled his mobile from his pocket and started typing.

“Why haven’t we heard from him before?” Mycroft asked.

“He was waiting to see how far I would go to tear down his network. He was biding his time to come after me when I had something greater to lose than John and Mrs. Hudson.”

Both men turned and looked at Molly. The force of their stares pushed the young woman back on the couch.

“What?” she whispered.

“Something as great as a family to lose. A mother and child.”

*****

It was late in the evening when Sherlock stood staring at the wall with various newspaper clippings and photos pinned to it. In the center of the collage was the note I.O.U. that was inside the music box.

Molly and Mary were in the kitchen preparing dinner, while John sat in his chair silently watching his friend. Baby Elizabeth slept quietly in the travel cot next to John’s chair.

“Sherlock are you sure it is him?” John said mutedly.

“I never told you John but Moriarty was tormenting me with those letters before I had to go up to the roof.” Sherlock couldn’t refer to his actual fall without upsetting John so the two had developed euphemisms for the day Sherlock faked his death. “I would find them everywhere. In windows, graffiti painted on walls, notes left to me. He taunted me. He was said he owed me a fall. A destruction.”

“You think it’s really him and not Moran doing this to you.” John asked.

“I don’t believe Moran is devious enough for such a plan. The messages were left in subtle places that only I would look for them.”

“But twins?”

“Mycroft said the finger prints of the man he detained months before Moriarty was arrested did not match the fingerprints of the man arrested in the Tower. Identical twins. It is the only explanation.”

“And he is working with Moran?”

“Yes, Moran is his best assassin. The perfect killer.”

“Don’t sound so impressed. Remember he is coming after you.” John stood and moved to stand next to his friend. “He is coming to kill you.”

“That will be his mistake.” Sherlock said.

“What about Molly and the baby?”

“Mycroft has placed a security detail on her and I have convinced her to stay here.”

“Do you think that is wise?”

“Yes John. It is exactly what I need to have.” Sherlock turned to give his friend a sideways glance.

“Maybe what you want but not what you need, Sherlock. Don’t try and fool me.” John was not smiling. “You don’t understand what having a baby around does to you. It changes your perception of the world. Your priorities.”

“John, I have my priorities is perfect order.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information about chorionic amniotic twins is correct. Two individuals can have identical DNA but they are very rare. Why they have two different fingerprints is still unknown.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sherlock walked through his flat in the early morning. After the realization the previous night that Moriarty and Moran were after her and her baby, Molly wanted to be left alone. Even a visit from John, Mary and the baby didn’t raise Molly’s outlook. She insisted on sleeping alone upstairs in John’s old bedroom. Agreeing to not leave the flat, but not agreeing to remain. Sherlock need to convince her the logic of staying at 221 Baker.

He tried appeasing her sensibility by stating what a perfect location the flat was for her and the baby. He tried to be honest with her and tell her how much he truly wanted her there. He finally tried blackmail by employing his parents to manipulate her into staying. He did admit the final method had seemed to backfire when they brought up marriage.

He paced back and forth between the windows in the sitting room and the kitchen trying to come to a decision. Yes she wanted Molly to stay nearby. Yes, he deeply enjoyed her being in his bed when he finally succumbed to the need for sleep or companionship. He even had to admit the companionship was becoming more and more important to him.

But there was more than just those components in having Molly living in his flat. There was her own needs and wants. Did she really want to be there with him? He reassured himself that Molly still had affection for him. More affection than the silly crush she had on him for all those years. She had been enthusiastic in bed with him. She had even told him that she loved him. But Molly had fears. Justifiable fears.

Then there was also the baby. A baby would change everything between them. He had agreed to be there to help her through her pregnancy, but he hadn’t planned on her becoming so close to him. He hadn’t foreseen how much he would start to value her. Care for her. She honestly did matter the most. And the baby she carried, it wasn’t his, but Sherlock didn’t care. He would give up his life to keep them safe. The baby would change everything but he was now willing to change?

For two and half years of living to destroy Moriarty, of hiding in the shadows, and not knowing if he would see the next day, he wanted something more. It had been suffocating to him. He wanted to breathe now. He wanted more than just the “Work.” He wanted a life. Molly could give him that life. Could he give Molly the life she wanted? Could he be the man she needed, wanted and most importantly deserved?

“Morning,” Molly said sleepily as she stepped down from the last stair. She was wearing her own pajamas instead of one of his shirts. He found it strangely painful. “Have you started the coffee yet?”

“No coffee for you remember.” He said watching her walk slowly into the kitchen. Her bare feet padding softly. “You didn’t sleep well last night.”

She leaned over the sink resting. He was right, she had not slept well. “It’s your fault.” She said trying to find the energy to start the kettle boiling.

“I didn’t play my violin last night. I was quiet.”

“Well, yeah. I got accustom to sleeping next to you. It was lonely.” Sherlock turned away and smiled. “It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have made me so angry.”

“You shouldn’t get so emotional. It’s not good for you or the baby.” He turned back and walked into the kitchen. Molly was leaning against the counter with her eyes closed. Dosing while standing up. Sherlock found it beguiling. “How is she today?”

“Huh?” Molly forced her eyes open as Sherlock retrieved two cups from the cupboard and set the box of herbal tea on the counter next to the electric kettle.

“How is our little girl today?” He gently placed his hand on her stomach and lightly palmed over Molly’s baby bump. “She is growing fast.” His voice dipped low.

Molly opened her eyes wider and looked down at his hand then up into his face. Sherlock’s eyes were studying Molly. The intense blue green that other people found intimidating she found reassuring. A small blushed tinted her cheeks as she felt the gently intimate touch on her. Molly licked her lips as she watched Sherlock lean forward and softly kiss her mouth.

“You know you didn’t have to sleep alone last night.” He whispered.

“Did you get any sleep?” She asked in a half voice. Her eyes fixed on his plumb lower lip.

“No, my bed was too cold.” Molly smiled slightly.

“Like I said your fault.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. Molly sighed and returned the kiss, lifting up on her toes to better reach him. The kettle clicked off as the water boiled in the carafe. The two people turned and looked at it.

“Still want the tea?” Molly asked. A teasing smile on her face.

“No, but I don’t think you will be offering me anything better.” Sherlock said. “And you’re still not drinking coffee.” He moved away and walked into the sitting room.

“Spoil sport.” She giggled and set about fixing tea for herself and coffee for Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson called out before she climbed the last few steps up to the landing and flat door. “I brought up your newspaper dear.” She handed the paper to Sherlock who was flopping down on the couch drinking his perfectly prepared coffee. Mrs. Hudson turned to see Molly in the kitchen starting to fix toast. “Oh, Molly that’s not a proper breakfast. Sit down and let me take care of you.”

“Mrs. Hudson you really don’t . . .”

“I would love too, dear. But just this once. I’m your landlord not your house keeper.” She quickly cleared the dishes from the drain rack and set about making a good English breakfast for the two.

Sherlock called Molly over to show her an article in the newspaper about a young man whose proposal to his fiancé was interrupted by the SAS. Molly and Sherlock sat on the couch together laughing. As Mrs. Hudson brought in their plates, Sherlock swung his legs over Molly’s lap and said.

“Right here Mrs. Hudson. We’ll eat here on the couch.”

“Sherlock, I can’t eat with you sprawled out across my lap,” Molly complained. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, then wiggled his bare toes. Molly saw the movement, then blushed deeply, remembering the wicked thoughts she had had about his naked feet weeks ago. “Sherlock!”

He smiled and took the plate of food from Mrs. Hudson and began eating.

“Mrs. Hudson how soon until the C flat will be ready?” Sherlock asked refusing to acknowledge Molly’s fluster.

“The work men said about two months.” She handed a plate of food to Molly. “Is that okay with you dear?” She looked at Molly for an answer.

“Me, ah, two months. I don’t know . . .”

“That will be find Mrs. Hudson. Molly will be more than comfortable enough here until then. The bangers are especially delicious today aren’t they Molly?”

The young woman tried to glare at the man but he wiggled his toes again and she couldn’t get mad.

“Yes Sherlock. Just as you say.”

He smiled at that and ignored the rest of the food in front of him.

*****

A month later Molly was getting tired of the dust and noise from flat C. Everyday she would returned from St Bart’s to walk into the construction site that was 221 Baker Street. Planks and buckets of plaster crowded the floor in the ground floor landing of the building. The sound of hammering and sawing was carried up from the basement all the way to Sherlock’s flat. There was no escape for Molly to get away from the noise and the mess.

It was hard for Molly to complain because she knew everything was being done for her. Her safety and wellbeing. Molly knew there was a security detail following her but she never saw them. Sometimes she wondered if they were really there. Wondering if Mycroft just claimed there was a team to set Sherlock at ease.

Then there was Sherlock. He was constantly checking in on her. Texting her throughout the day expecting her to answer him back. He was attentive and caring, but she was waiting for him to become bored. Right now she was the center of a web that Moran and maybe Moriarty were weaving. But what would happen to her and her baby when Sherlock finally solved this puzzle? When he became bored? Because Sherlock always became bored. She did not delude herself in believing she could hold his attention regardless how wonderful he was now. How great a lover he was or how much she was falling deeper in love with him. She was living the dream she always wanted. She had Sherlock’s attention, but Molly knew she couldn’t hold it. Regardless of how much she wanted to believe what he was telling her.

It hurt knowing the intimacy she was sharing with him now would end, but she accepted the hurt anyway, so she could have this short time with him.

The front door was standing open of 221 Baker Street when she walk up from the tube station. Construction workers were carrying in tools and lumber and carrying out refuse. As Molly carefully stepped over the debris, she heard one of the men call out to her.

“Are you Dr. Hooper?”

Molly looked up to see a middle aged man in work coveralls stained with paint and plaster.

“Yes.”

“I was told to get your opinion on the bathroom. If you wanted a bigger shower or a separate shower tub arrangement.”

“Oh? Aren’t all the bathrooms the same in this building?” She asked stepping closer to the workman.

“No, they’re in the same location but each flat has different floor plans. Come on down and see.” The man turned and headed down the narrow stairs to the basement flat. Molly followed him. As he reached the last step, he waited for Molly to catch up.

He suddenly turned around and wrapped his hand around Molly’s neck. He held the cloth dosed with chloroform over Molly’s mouth and nose, till the woman went slack. She fell forward and into his chest. The man easily picked Molly up and set her into the refuse bin. Covering her with broken plaster and torn slates, as he hid her body. Two other men grabbed the edge of the bin and carried out the back of the flat and into the garden. The two men carried the bin and set it in the back of truck. The first man climbed behind the wheel of the truck and drove off down the alley.

Mycroft’s security team waited for Molly to return to the flat. After five minutes when she didn’t appear in the cameras set up in the flat, they sent a man into 221 to see where Molly had gone. They found the dead construction workers in the basement flat and Mrs. Hudson tied to a chair in her flat. Molly was gone.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly meets her kidnapper.

Chapter Twenty-four

Molly had been missing for half an hour when Sherlock received the text message from Mycroft.

“Why is he texting me instead of calling?” Sherlock said off handed when he first looked down at his phone. He and John were combing through Sherlock’s homeless network looking for information regarding Moran. Sherlock read the brief message.

_“Security team found Dr. missing from 221. Presumed kidnapped.”_

Sherlock grabbed John’s arm as he read. The air being knocked out of his lungs. Suddenly a rushing sound like wind, distorting his hearing. Sherlock stumbled and nearly fell.

“Sherlock? What’s wrong?” John asked seeing his friend pale even more than normal.

Sherlock didn’t answer him. He quickly dialed his brother, shouting in the phone.

“HOW LONG?!”

“Thirty minutes.” Mycroft said in a calm voice.

“THIRTY MINUTES! WHAT WERE YOUR IDIOTS DOING, HAVING TEA?!” Sherlock started looking up and down the street for a taxi.

“Sherlock what’s happened?” John interrupted him.

Mycroft continued. “She was observed walking into the building. After ten minutes she had not reached the flat. The team went in and found three dead workmen in the basement flat and Mrs. Hudson tied to her kitchen chair. She is doing fine, refusing medical attention. A waste bin was observed being removed out the back of the building and loaded into a truck. We are following the tracker on Dr. Hooper’s clothing as we speak. We know where she is.”

“No you know where her coat is you great big imbecile!” Sherlock waved his arm in the air and a taxi pulled over. “Give me a location!”

“Camden Town, Underhill off Arlington Road. I have a team dispatched there now.” Mycroft remained calm as his brother ranted at him. Disconnecting the call, Sherlock hissed.

Sherlock jumped into the backseat of the taxi with John close behind. He gave the address to the driver and quickly started texting various numbers.

“Sherlock, is it Molly?” John asked.

“She been missing for half an hour. Mycroft’s security team saw her enter 221 but she didn’t make it up to the flat.”

“Oh God. Mrs. Hudson?” John asked.

“Attacked but fine. Three dead workmen in the basement.” Sherlock sent off another text.

“Who are you texting?”

“I’m getting my homeless network searching for her.”

*****

Molly woke with a pounding headache. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut groaning. She tasted the chemical burn in her mouth and recognized the smell of chloroform. Molly slowly sat up and tried to cradle her head in her hands, but she couldn’t bring her left hand up. Opening her eyes, Molly saw the handcuff on the eighteen inch chain attached to the bed frame.

Briefly she looked down confused. She was wearing a pair of strange pajamas and was laying in a queen size bed. Everything was unfamiliar to her.

“If you want me to remove your restraints, you must promise to behave.” Molly jumped at the voice. Sitting in the chair opposite the bed was the man in dark suit with a pale blue tie. His black eyes shined brightly.

“Jim?” She whispered. Shivering she pulled her knees to her chest.

“Molly, Molly, Molly. What a wonderful surprise. How are you doing?” Moriarty smiled at her. She didn’t answer him. “Well I see you are quite pregnant. I am so disappointed in you.” He shook his head dramatically.

“Disappointed? Why?” Molly asked. “Your brother?”

“Jasper. Yes he was my brother. Do you know we both dated you at the same time? We alternated. He wanted to bed you but I said we should wait. He suggested we take you together at the same time. Imagine it, both of us having at you together. ” Molly started shaking. The thought of the two psychopaths forcing themselves on her made her sick. She wanted to run and throw up. “I said you were gentle and sweet, pure. We needed to treat you as such. But Jasper, well he was of a different mind. Then you introduced Jasper to Sherlock and he forgot all about you. He swore Sherlock was gay. Swore he was going to become Jasper’s new lover. How stupid we were. I wanted you and he wanted Sherlock. Meanwhile the two of you were rutting together like pigs in heat.”

“The baby isn’t Sherlock’s.” She whispered.

“Molly I’ve read your medical record. I’ve seen the paternity test.”

Molly closed her eyes. Damn Mycroft. She swallowed and tried to calm herself.

“What are you going to do to us?” She asked. “The baby and me?”

“You will stay here with me. If you behave you will be treated well. I will not harm you. But if you misbehave, you will make me very angry.” He leaned forward in his chair and whispered darkly at her. The rest of the statement went unsaid.

Molly started to cry.

“Oh no, no little Molly don’t cry. Daddy’s here to make it better.”

“I’ll behave. Please just don’t hurt my baby.” Molly whimpered.

“Very good. We have an understanding.” Moriarty stood up and moved closer to the bed. Molly pulled back and huddled near the headboard. “I’m sure you would like that cuff removed. Now until you prove yourself, you will have to stay in this room. But after I deal with Sherlock and his brother, we can spend more time together. Get to know each other better.” He smiled at her as he knelt down on the bed and unlocked the cuff from her wrist. Molly pulled her hand to her chest and ducked her head down. Moriarty bent over and kissed the top of her head.

“I know we will grow to be the best of friends.” He stood up and laughed lightly before he turned to walk away from her. She heard the door open and close. The heavy clank as the lock was engaged. She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

*****

Sherlock stood as still as a statue as Mycroft’s men retrieved Molly’s clothes from the skip. Her bra and panties were the only articles not there. Sherlock forced himself to remain calm, to not throw himself at the head of the security team and throttle the man. Molly needed Sherlock to be in the game now. He had to think. Plan.

His homeless network were already scurrying across the city looking for a woman that would match Molly’s description. Lestrade had been notified and NSY was set into motion. Mycroft had people going through CCTV recordings to follow any vehicle that left the area around Camden Town were Molly’s clothes were left. What more could Sherlock do? What more was there to do but wait?

Instead of concentrating on the scene in front of him, images of Molly slipped into Sherlock’s mind. Kissing her that morning in the kitchen, the smell of her hair as he hugged her, the feel of her skin as he cradled her in his arms before sleep. He clinched his teeth tighter and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sentiment,” he hissed between his teeth. “A defect.”

John looked up and could see the battle raging inside his friend. “Sherlock?”

The tall detective’s eye opened and he stepped forward. He would not let sentiment or his feelings interfere with his work. He pushed Mycroft’s men out of the way as he started digging through the refuse for clues. Murmuring over and over again, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and the kudos. It is fun writing this story and you are making it better.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

There had been no new information regarding Molly’s whereabouts after almost week. Sherlock had given up on Scotland Yard and MI5, focusing all his attention to the homeless network. Mycroft had been able to find three separate vehicles leaving the area where Molly’s clothes had been found but all three leads led to dead ends. Lestrade was unable to identify any of the kidnappers from CCTV photos. Six days and Sherlock still had no idea where Molly was.

Molly was actually in a lovely house in Hampstead that backup to a wood. She had remained locked in her room for the first five days. A woman by the name of Eve bringing her meals to her. On the fifth day she asked if she could take a walk in the garden behind the house. She could see it from her barred windows. Late that afternoon, James Moriarty unlocked the door to her room and escorted her to the manicured lawns and chipped path of the garden. They walked slowly together as he talked.

He talked about his brother, Jasper. About them growing up together in Ireland and of their father. An abusive man who relished beating both of them for the slightest infraction.

“I won’t do that to my child,” Molly said weakly. Moriarty turned to look at her then smiled.

“No Molly, it is the father’s responsibility to discipline. You will see. I won’t beat our child either.”

Molly stopped and stared at him. She was shaking. Moriarty was going to keep her and the baby. He was going to claim her and the child as his own. Molly blinked her eyes rapidly, as she felt her blood run cold.

“If it is a girl, we name her Arianna for my mother. If it is a boy, Jasper.” He said as he took hold of her elbow and pulled her along the path. Molly couldn’t pull her eyes from the man.

“Jim, you can’t mean to . . .”

“What keep you, marry you?” He smiled. “Oh yes and no. I plan on keeping you. Well until I get bored. I would have married you but not after you whored yourself to Sherlock. Not now, but you will never leave here. Trust me. This will be your home from now on.”

Molly felt dizzy, she wanted to run but her legs couldn’t support her weight. Molly wavered back and forth for a moment, then everything faded to grays, then black.

Molly woke up in the locked bed room again. Eve entered bring Molly her evening meal. “Oh good, your awake. Mr. Moriarty wanted to know when you woke. He was very sad that he wasn’t able to say goodbye to you.”

“James has left?” Molly asked in a horsed voice.

“Yes, he will be gone for several days. But he will call every day and asked about you.” Eve said as she arranged the simple meal on the table.

Molly knew she had to escape now.

*****

Sherlock and John waited on the north side of the Millennium Bridge. They had received a message to meet someone there. Sherlock had received a note while walking through Covent Garden. As the two men pushed their way pass shoppers and hawkers, Sherlock was bumped by a teenage boy. Skinny with filthy hair. The young man looked up into Sherlock’s face and for a brief moment smiled. A flash of recognition tinted the boy’s eyes. Then he vanished into the crowds. Sherlock plunged his hand into his pocket and found the note from Bill Wiggins.

John had his arms folded and wrapped around his body trying to stay warm as the late night breeze blew up the Thames. He shivered slightly looking around, searching the darkness for threats. The weight of his gun wedged in the small of his back reassuring.

Sherlock paced up and down the pavement in front of John. His hand shoved deep into the pockets of his black coat. He was trying to piece together information he had received through his homeless network but nothing helped draw him closer to Molly. After six days he was no closer to finding her.

John felt the approach of the man before he saw him. The soldier dropped his hands from folded around his chest and subconsciously moved his right hand back behind his hip. Waiting. Wiggins moved out from the shadows and into the faint light of the street lamp.

“Siggy.” He greeted Sherlock. The tall detective stopped his pacing and stood erect watching the man. “Glad you got my message.”

“I’m here. Make it worth my time.”

“High Timber Street.”

“What about it?” Sherlock asked.

“That man you asked about a while ago. He’s been seen around 10 High Timber Street. On the roof.” Wiggins said moving slowly towards the two men.

“Moran? Who saw him?”

“Shayla. She was going through the bins on Broken Wharf and Trig Lane. She saw the bloke moving in and out between the buildings. She remembered the photo you was passing around.”

“When? How long ago?” Sherlock moved closer to Wiggins.

“Two days ago.”

“Was he alone or was there a woman with him. Small, brown hair, pregnant. Or a man, dark hair, thin, pale skin.”

“Shayla said alone.”

Sherlock cursed softly and pulled out a money clip with several pound notes. He pulled two twenty pound notes and handed them to Wiggins. “I need to know about the woman. Find her.” Sherlock was almost hissing at the man. Wiggins took the money and vanished quickly into the shadows.

John stepped closer to Sherlock. He looked up and down the street to see if they were being observed. “So Moran is still around. Do you think he has Molly at this number 10 High Timber?”

“No, it’s too crowded. Too many people around. She will be somewhere quiet and secluded.” Sherlock slipped the money clip back into his pocket. He flipped the collar of his coat up against the breeze. “But he and Moriarty are planning something to do with that building. It backs right up to the river. I need to see what is on the other side of the river from it. Maybe it is going to be Moran’s new sniper’s nest.”

“Or maybe he plans on shooting someone there. Working backwards. Checking out the location to find a good nest to shoot at it.” John offered as Sherlock started walking back into the crowded city streets.

“Very good deduction John. You’re learning.” Sherlock quickened his pace. His friend having to double time to keep up.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly helps herself.

Chapter Twenty-six

The bedroom Molly was being kept in was not exactly overflowing with weapons. There was a bed and two nightstands with matching lamps. There was a vanity with a round mirror about a meter in diameter with a small bench. There was a comfortable oversized armchair by the fireplace with a reading lamp and small table. The bathroom had even less helpful weapons in it.

Molly sat in the arm chair wrapped in a brown throw as she worked out the details of her escape. She knew she needed to do it while James was gone. If the people thought she was important to him, then there was the chance they would hesitate in hurting her giving her an extra chance to flee. She had no idea where she was but she could see the roof tops of other houses through the trees. And she had noticed large aeroplanes flying overhead, therefore she had to be near a large metropolitan area.

Molly knew she couldn’t out run her abductors, but maybe she could out think them. She had not seen the back of the property when she had been out walking with James, but she knew there was a wooded area with undergrowth. Maybe it wasn’t fenced. She knew she would have to wait until dark.

At ten o’clock, Molly called out her door for Eve. She called for ten minutes till she heard the door unlock.

“Yes dear, what do you want?” The woman asked. She was already dressed in her pajamas and wearing a robe, as was Molly.

“I’m sorry but it’s the baby. You know morning sickness that lasts all day.” The woman just stood staring at Molly. “I, ah, could you please find me some antacids and a sleeve of saltines. It would settle my stomach and help me sleep.”

“Anything else?” Eve asked sighing heavily.

Molly glanced out the door and saw the hallway empty. “No just that and I think I can get my stomach settled.”

The woman closed the door and locked it again. Molly rushed to the bathroom and changed into a pair of slacks and the darkest shirt they provided her. She left the water running in the bathroom and turned off the lights in the bedroom. Unplugging the lamp beside the bed, she pulled the cord from it. Then Molly took her position beside the door. As the door opened she would be behind it. She took a deep breath and waited.

Within ten minutes, she heard the door unlock and open. Eve stepped into the darkened room calling out.

“Molly? Are you sick again?”

The woman stepped towards the light in the bathroom. Molly swung hard with table lamp and crashed it over Eve’s head. The woman groaned as she fell to the floor. Molly swung again and heard the solid thud of metal hitting a skull. Eve was unconscious on the floor. Quickly, Molly grabbed the pulled cord and tied the woman’s hands together behind her back. Molly took a pair of balled socks and pushed them into Eve’s mouth. Padding down Eve’s robe, Molly found not only the keys to the room but a mobile phone. She smiled as she slipped both items into her pocket.

Grabbing the small brown throw blanket off the chair, Molly looked around the door and into the hallway. She could hear voices from the first floor, but the hallway was still empty. She stepped out slowly and pulled the door closed. Locking it behind her. Moving as cautiously as she could, Molly moved down the hall and to the stairs. She looked over the banister and down to the floor below. Several men were in the front room of the house. It looked like they were playing cards. She knew she couldn’t sneak past them.

Molly moved back and pushed herself to the wall and walked past the open space. She was completely visible to the men if they just looked up. She held her breath as she side stepped to the far hallway on the opposite side of the staircase. At the end of that hallway was a set of servants’ stairs, leading directly down to the kitchen. Once she reached the stairs, Molly raced down them. Stepping into the dark kitchen alone she paused to listen. The voices were still coming from the front of house and no one seemed alarmed. Molly moved to the door that led to the outside and to the garden.

She looked up and saw the small green light indicating there was an alarm on the door. It was too late she had to risk it. The men would know exactly when she opened the door but she had to try. She had to escape. Holding tight to the blanket, Molly took another deep breathe, steadied herself and opened the door.

The alarm was loud and flooded the house with an electronic klaxon. Molly stepped out into the cold night air. Rushing down the chip path and out into the garden. Outdoor flood lights turned on, triggered by her movements. It seemed like it took her forever to run across the open ground of the garden and into the woods in back. Just twenty feet into the woods, the shadows were thick and dark. Molly saw the low bushes of boxwood and holly. She pushed her way past the plants and laid down in the shadows under them. She covered herself with the blanket and disappeared into the undergrowth of the wood.

She was panting hard. Her heart raced. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on slowing her breathing. After several minutes she heard the alarm shut off and the men running through the woods. Their footfalls mere feet away from where she was hidden. Then silence. Molly held her breath.

“Fuck, where’d she go?” The faint masculine whisper. “You think she got this far? She pregnant, she couldn’t.”

“Maybe she’s still in the bloody house?” Another voice said. “Just waiting to go out the front while we’re wasting our fucking time out here.”

“Well, who the hell knows? We had to kick that damn door in first, figure out she escaped.” The first voice said. “I don’t see a fucking thing out here. She could have made it out to street by now!”

“I’m getting the fuck out of here! The boss is going to kill us!”

“He’s going to skin us alive! Let’s go!”

She heard the sound of running feet but away from the house instead of to it. Molly slowly let go of her breathe. She had to wait, just a little bit longer. She laid on the wet leaves. The cold moving into her. She was shaking as she pulled the phone from her pocket. She had planned on getting up and running out after they gave up looking for her but this was better. She wouldn’t have to risk moving. Under the brown blanket, Molly pushed the button to power up the phone. She dialed the number she knew by heart.

“Hello,” his voice was deep but strained.

“Sherlock?”

“Molly, where are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how long I can talk. I’m hiding from them. In a wooded area behind a big house. Two story, red brick. I stole a phone. I’ll leave it on. Can you find me from that?” She started to cry.

“I’ll find you. Just stay put. I’m coming Molly. I’m coming for you.”

She closed her eyes and held onto the phone tightly. It was her only connection to Sherlock now. It was her only life line.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of angst and hurt feelings coming. Thank you all for your kudos and comments. They have encourage me to write faster.

Chapter Twenty-seven

It took MI5 twenty minutes to find the location Molly was at and another twenty-five to enter the house and find Molly hiding in the woods behind the house. Eve was still in the house with just four other men. Three men had escaped and one was killed.

*****

“Alright Molly, enough is enough.” Mike Stanford said as he stood beside the woman’s hospital bed. He flipped through the medical record reading the notes from the A and E doctor and the lab results. “You arrived in the early stages of hyperthermia. Your blood pressure is dangerously high, and you are electrolytes are out of whack. Are you trying to kill yourself and the baby?”

Molly looked away ashamed. Her fingers pulled at the hem of the hospital blanket. There was an IV attached to her arm to rehydrate her. “Is she going to be alright?” Molly asked softly.

Mike looked up as John Watson took the medical record from his hands. John quickly looked through the lab results and the nurse’s notes.

“If you do exactly what your doctor tells you to do.” John said. “And quit running around with this big git.” He nodded over to Sherlock.

Sherlock stood up straighter, hovering next to the side of Molly’s bed. He looked indignantly at his friend.

“Molly,” Mike continued, “you need to rest. Period. One week here in this bed then you will go home and spent the next week on complete bed rest. Then and only then, and after a full evaluation about your blood pressure and health, I will let you return to limited duties here at St. Bart’s. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mike . . .” Molly looked up, starting to plea.

“No, you will rest and eat properly. No more skipping meals and just tea and toast.”

John looked up at Sherlock and glared. “You will help her and eat too.”

Sherlock didn’t answer his friend.

“Molly, I’m not joking. You have been doing far too much during this pregnancy. You were shot and operated on. Two kidnappings and now hyperthermia. It’s amazing you’ve kept the baby at all, let alone not killed yourself.”

Sherlock clinched his jaw and looked down at the frightened woman in the bed. He slipped his larger hand around her small one.

“Molly, I know you know better. You will stay here and rest.” Mike leaned forward and rested his hands on the bed rail. Do I make myself clear?”

Molly had never seen the head of her department so forceful before. He had always been her loveable cuddly boss that no one feared. His determination to be firm with her probably scared her more than his diagnosis.

“Rest and the baby will be fine.” John said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Sherlock, Mary and I will make sure you are taken care of. Won’t we, Sherlock?”

Sherlock refused to look at his friend. Instead he leaned closer to Molly and whispered. “I won’t leave your side.”

Molly blushed and looked up at him. “You idiot, you will.” She whispered back. “You are going to go stop Moriarty. You know you will. You have too.” She smiled softly.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers. Then closed his eyes. She was right.

*****

After a week in hospital, Molly returned to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson met Sherlock and Molly at the door when they walked in. Mrs. Hudson wrapped Molly in a big hug which was difficult given how big Molly’s tummy had gotten. She was almost seven months pregnant now. Molly started to waddle slightly as she walked.

“Oh Molly, oh you look so rested. Good. I was beginning to worry about you.” Mrs. Hudson cooed over her.

“Mrs. Hudson, I think you worry about all of us all the time. Just like a mum should.” Molly smiled at the older woman. Mrs. Hudson gave her a loving pat and shooed at her.

Molly turned and looked at the stairs leading up to Sherlock’s flat. Seventeen. Molly sighed heavily then felt Sherlock step up behind her. Before she could protest he swept her up in his arms. And started to carry her bridal style up the stairs.

“Sherlock! Put me down!” Molly gasped.

“No, Mike said you needed to rest and not over exert yourself.” He carried her up the stairs, turning on the landing and climbing the last few stairs.

“Sherlock, I can walk up the stairs. Put me down.”

“No. I promised to take care of you through this pregnancy.” Sherlock kicked the door open. Moving swiftly into the sitting room.

“Sherlock put me down!” Sherlock set Molly down carefully in John’s chair.

“There.” He said slipping his hands from around her. Then pulled his coat off, tossing it onto the couch.

Molly took several deep breaths to calm down. She unbutton her coat and leaned back into the chair.

“Sherlock, why are you doing all this?”

“All what?” He moved over and sat down in his chair facing her.

“While I was in hospital, I had time to think. To think about the last few months.”

“Of course.” He narrowed his gaze.

“Sherlock, every time I ask you why you are doing whatever you are doing, you tell me it is because you promised to help me with the pregnancy. But since we began living together things have changed.” Sherlock steeple his fingers under his chin as he listened to her. “You told me you would find me, you wouldn’t leave me. You’ve told me you want me here in this flat and in your bed. Please I need to hear you say it. I’ve said it to you so many times. Tell me what you truly want of me, what you feel.”

Sherlock sat completely still. His face frozen.

“Sherlock? This is not your child, but you have been a better father than I could even imagine. Why? It’s more than just a promise to help us. You are protective and devoted. Why? Say it.”

Sherlock stood so quickly, Molly jumped. The detective started pacing the room refusing to look at her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket. Letting his glance fall on anything but the woman sitting there questioning him.

“Sherlock?”

“Molly, your presence in my life has been stimulating. I have discovered I have needs that you are able to fulfill. But as you know, sentiment is something I do not indulge in. Sentiment is a defect on the losing side. I will not be on the losing side.” Sherlock turned and looked at her. He could see the fear and pain in her eyes, but he had to continue. “I need to be able to work and stimulating distractions can not be tolerated. I want you here, but I am not vulnerable to emotions.”

Sherlock could feel a painful tightness in his chest as he heard his own words. Is this really what he wanted to say? He knew it was what he was expected to say, but was it what he wanted?

“I am a gentleman and I keep my promises. I have been here for you and the baby because I said I would. Close proximity to me has placed you in danger repeatedly, I was only fulfilling my promise.”

He could see the tear slowly travel down Molly’s cheek.

“Yes, I see that.” Her voice almost broke as she spoke. “How much longer until flat C is ready?”

Sherlock shook his head for a second, jumping from one conversation to the next.

“The redecorating is done. Furniture just needs to be bought.” Sherlock said.

“Then I’ll call Mary and we will go and tomorrow and get what I need to get by for the short term.” Molly slowly stood.

“Molly, the doctors said you were to be on bed rest for another week.” Sherlock moved to stand closer to her.

“I just need to have a bed delivered then. A bed and some lamps to read by.” She backed away from him. He felt a cold rush move through him as she moved away.

“Molly don’t be obtuse.”

“Sherlock, I won’t be needing your assistance any longer. I release you from your promise. I am quite tired of everyone forgetting I’m was a person before I was pregnant.” She turned to walk away from him. He reached out to grab her arm but she slipped passed him too quickly.

“Molly, you are being ridiculous.” He said in a huff.

“No Sherlock, I have been ridiculous. I thought I was in love. Then Moriarty kidnapped me. He told me he wanted me too. He was wrong, he was delusional. Just like me. Wanting someone we will never have. Apparently I’m as mentally unbalanced as he is.”

Sherlock stepped up trying to catch up to Molly as she started to climb the steps to John’s old room.

“Molly stop. I just can’t be what you want.”

Molly turned and looked at him.

“Neither can I.” She slowly pulled herself up the stairs refusing to look back at him. Sherlock dragged both of his hands through his hair ruffing up the curls. He cursed silently under his voice and grabbed his Belstaff.

Running down the stairs, he stormed out of 221 as Mrs. Hudson called after him. He ignored her. He needed to calm down. He was angry. Angry that Molly had pushed him, wanting answers. Angry he had to push his emotions away while he searched for her. Angry at himself for lying to her.

When he returned hours later, the flat was silent. Molly’s coat was missing, as well as a novel she had been reading.

Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson walking slowly up behind him.

“She’s gone Sherlock. She left about an hour ago. That nice policeman came for her. DI Lestrade. He was ever so angry with you. What did you do dear?”

Sherlock didn’t answer her. He just picked up his violin and started playing Moonlight Sonata.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John has a talk with Sherlock.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Molly was not answering her phone. Lestrade was ignoring Sherlock’s texts. He was band from Scotland Yard. Even Dimmock who had called him in to consult on a headless corpse had to ask him to leave as soon as he arrived at the crime scene. Dimmock told Sherlock he was persona non grata. It had been two weeks before Sherlock turned up at St. Bart’s to be turned away from the Pathology department by Mike.

“Sherlock, I don’t know what happened but she said you are no longer allowed in her lab or morgue.” Mike said as he shook his head. Sherlock didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was. “I’m sorry but until the baby is born, I don’t want to upset her anymore.” Sherlock turned and silently left the building.

After three weeks, Sherlock knocked on John Watson’s door at two in the morning. John opened the door and sighed looking at his friend. He opened the door wider and let the man enter.

“She hasn’t told Greg or me what you said or did but when Greg went to pick her up, she said she could never see you again.” John said as the two men sat at the kitchen table. Tumblers of whiskey held in their hands. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“She wanted me to tell her I loved her.” Sherlock whispered.

“Well, do you?”

It should have been a simple answer for the man. He was a genius. He should be able to articulate his feelings, his emotions. Sherlock sat silently.

“So you don’t?” John said quietly. Almost afraid of the answer.

Sherlock looked up into John’s face. The doctor saw the confusion and doubt playing behind the younger man’s eyes.

“Sherlock, what is it? Do you or don’t you?”

“I don’t know what love is?” He snapped out. His anger shading his face. “I don’t know emotions. I don’t have the data to draw a reasonable deduction as to my exact feelings. You know I despise sentiment.”

John rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. “Honest to God, Sherlock, you are hopeless. You are not a child. You have not been acting like a child with Molly. Obviously, you two have developed a relationship. You are sleeping together aren’t you? I mean that’s how she got pregnant?”

“The child’s not mine.” Sherlock looked back down at the whiskey in his glass. John paused at the announcement. His mouth gapped open.

“What?!”

“I’m not the father of Molly’s baby. It’s Tom what’s his name.” Sherlock said in a half voice.

“WHY?! Why have you two lied to everyone? Why did you say you were the father?” John leaned forward his fist hitting the table.

“Molly asked for my help. She had broken up with him and didn’t want him involved. It just snowballed from there.” Sherlock lifted the glass and drained the alcohol out.

“Does Tom know she’s having his baby?” John asked.

“No, and Molly doesn’t want him to know.”

“Why? Tom has a right.”

“He was only dating her to defraud his parents out of money. Her getting pregnant was an accident.”

“Oh,” John said as he quickly drank his whiskey down. He reached for the bottle between them and pour each of them fresh drinks. “So you told everyone that you were the father because Molly asked you too.”

“Not exactly. I told her I would help her through the pregnancy. Along the way, people started assuming I was the father and I didn’t correct them.”

“Okay, and?”

“And then we were living together and one thing led to another and . . .”

“Sherlock?”

The dark hair man took another sip of liquor. “We became close.”

“How close?” Sherlock looked up at John, glaring at his friend. “So you became lovers.”

“Yes, if you need further details I refuse to discuss this any further with you.”

“No need, I can draw my own pictures.” John dragged his thumb around the edge of his tumbler. “I already knew you had become intimate with her.” Sherlock blinked. “The morning I came to the flat and you two were eating breakfast together. It was quite obvious.”

“Oh.”

“You wouldn’t let go of her wrist.” John smiled. “You insisted she keep you informed of her whereabouts.”

“That was just for her safety.” John cocked his head to the side looking at his friend.

“You wanted to know where she was for your own peace of mind you idiot. So let me get this, you lie to everyone to keep her safe from an arse of an ex-boyfriend. You moved her into your flat. You started sleeping with her. You risk everything to keep her safe and when she gets kidnapped, you moved heaven and earth to get her back, but you don’t know if you love her?”

Sherlock sat silently looking at his friend.

“Sherlock, if you weren’t in love, I would be fearful of what you would do when you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted to kill someone for Molly. I thought you were going to kill that man who led up her security detail. You’ve lied for her about something most men lie about to avoid. You’ve fixed up that basement flat for her. What deduction can you draw from that evidence?”

“I’m in love.” Sherlock whispered.

“Then tell her.”

“She won’t speak to me now.”

John sighed and finished his whiskey. “Well you’re the genius. Figure it out.”

*****

Molly finished the last of the paper work sitting on her desk when she heard the knock on the door of her office. She looked up and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway. Her eyes grew large as she saw a smile grow across his face.

“Sherlock you are banned from here. Leave.”

“Then come with me.”

“No.”

Sherlock stepped into the room and closed the door. “Alright, consider this the third kidnap attempt during your pregnancy.”

“That’s not funny.” She pouted at him.

“There is something I want to show you. I am asking you to come with me. Afterwards you are free to leave and return to Lestrade’s flat. Although why you chose that man to . . .”

“Sherlock, no.”

“Please Molly come with me for just forty minutes. That is all the time I need to show you. It is the least you can do after everything I have done for you.”

“You’ve done for me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Forty minutes and you will never have to speak to me again.”

Molly stared at him for a moment then nodded her head. “Forty minutes. That’s all you get. Starting now.”

Sherlock pick her coat up from the back of the door and held it out for her to put on. He led her out of the hospital and quickly hailed a cab. The rode back to Baker Street in silence. He opened the front door and held it for her to enter.

“I’m not going up to your flat.” She sternly said.

“That is fine. What I want to show you is in Flat C.”

Molly cocked her head to the side and stepped over the threshold. Sherlock went to the door that led down to the basement flat. It had been over a month since Molly had seen it. Over a month since she had been kidnapped from there.

Molly walked slowly down the stairs and into the sitting room. The flat had been transformed from the damp dingy space into an inviting warm room. The wall had cream colored paper on them with sage green ferns decorating them. A dark brown couch sat across from an ornate painted mantle around a new fireplace. Two sage green overstuffed armchairs sat on either side of the couch. Bookshelves lined two walls. A thick beige rug covered the hard wood floors.

Molly stepped further into the room and looked into the kitchen area. A dark wooden table with two chairs sat nestled in the room with new appliances. A tall wooden highchair sat in the corner. Dark cabinets hung on the walls and under the counter.

Sherlock took Molly’s hand and led her down the hallway to the two bedrooms in the back of the flat. He opened the door of the smaller room and led Molly in. It was painted in a pastel yellow with animal characters near the ceiling. It was bright and warm. There was a changing table and white painted wardrobe. A comfortable looking rocking chair and a white crib. The crib appeared to be old, an antique. Molly stepped forward and ran her hand over the rail of the crib. The bedding was bright and colorful.

She turned back and looked at Sherlock. He could see tears in her eyes.

“I thought you would like it. I remembered your old flat was sage green too. And the crib,” he nodded at the bed, “it was mine. My mum never got rid of anything.”

“Yours?” Molly whispered.

“Ah yes. I thought . . . I wanted your child to have it. Please.” He rolled his lips between his teeth. He could feel his palms get warm with sweat as his heart began to beat faster. “Molly, I know that I have behaved unforgivably. I don’t expect you to ever want me in your life again, but I do find I want you in mine.” He tried to swallow but found his mouth dry. “I have found I have missed you greatly. That I am at a loss without you near. I know that I have more than likely lost your love, but you will always have mine.” He pulled his shoulders back and tried to stand taller. “Molly Hooper I love you. And although I have disappointed you greatly, please accept this flat as yours. A place for both you and your child. Please stay here near me. Please.”

Tears were falling rapidly from Molly’s eyes. She ran across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes to kiss him.

“Oh Sherlock, I love you too.”

He pulled her closer to him and held onto her. The kiss lasted till both gasped for breath.

“You’ll stay?” He asked.

“We’ll stay.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly goes into labor and Sherlock is Sherlock.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Mary Watson sat in one of the kitchen chairs in 221C feeding Elizabeth as Molly folded baby clothes.

“I am so jealous Molly.” Mary said as she watched Molly delicately fold the baby blankets. “I’m coming over here to do laundry from now on instead of carrying it all over to the laundry mat.”

Molly smiled and giggled. “I know it’s silly, but having my own washer and dryer is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I mean look at this place. Sherlock thought of everything.”

Mary smiled at the young doctor as she gently rocked her own baby.

“Just explain something to me please?”

“Okay.” Molly looked over at the other woman.

“You and Sherlock have made up and are truly and officially together?”

“Yes.” Molly giggled again.

“Then why does he live upstairs and you live down here?”

Molly blushed.

“It’s actually quite simple. We’re together but we’re not. I love Sherlock and I know he loves me. I also realize this is a real big change for him. He uses 221B for work and clients. He does his experiments up there and goes there to think. When he wants to eat or sleep or just talk, he comes down here.”

Mary wrinkled her brow studying Molly’s explanation. “I think you might be the only person alive who can tolerate Sherlock more than even John. Amazing.” Molly smiled and picked the folded clothes and took them into the nursery. “You know John is probably happier for you two than even yourselves?”

“Really?” Molly walked back into the kitchen and clicked on the kettle to make tea.

“Oh yes. He knew you two were together months ago. He told me how Sherlock would watch you when you weren’t looking. Keeping you within his peripheral vision. Hovering over you when you didn’t pay attention.”

Molly smiled and sat down in the second chair. Molly suddenly scrunched her face up as her hand moved back to support her back.

“Molly?” Mary asked watching the woman wince.

“It’s my lower back. It’s hurt all morning.”

“Oh? How?”

“At first it was just a dull throb most of the time but just now a sharp muscle cramp.”

Mary stood and placed Elizabeth in the travel cot. Then moved over to stand next to Molly. She grabbed Molly’s wrist and checked her pulse.

“Do you think it was a contraction?” Mary asked after releasing Molly’s wrist and smoothing her palm over Molly’s belly.

“A contraction? No. It can’t be. I’m only . . .” Molly turned and looked at the calendar on the refrigerator door. Sherlock had been ticking days off till Molly’s due date. She looked up at the date and the few blank days not yet marked. “Oh my God. I’m at thirty-nine weeks!”

“Yes Molly, I think you may have started labor.” Mary said and she went to retrieve her phone from the diaper bag.

“Are you calling Sherlock?”

“No! I’m calling John. You remember how crazy Sherlock got just before our wedding. Imagine what he will be like when he finds out you are just before going to give birth. He’ll be uncontrollable. I’m calling John to get him hemmed in before we tell him. Then I’ll get you to hospital.”

“You can’t. What about Elizabeth?”

“Don’t worry. I can handle the two of you.” Mary said with a smile.

“No, I have a better idea. Go stand in front of the building and wave your arms. Mycroft’s people will be here double time.” Molly said as she suddenly sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table. “Mary?” Molly looked up scared.

“It will be fine Molly. The first baby is always the scariest. You’ll be fine.” Mary did as Molly suggested and ten minutes later the two women were being rushed to St. Bart’s.

*****

Lestrade still had not forgiven Sherlock after a month. The consulting detective was still not called in for cases by NSY but he didn’t care. He was busy trying to find Moriarty and Moran. Both men had eluded Sherlock at the Hampstead house and now he was sure they were working to reestablish Moriarty’s crime web.

Newspaper articles reported a decrease in random crimes in London, but Sherlock knew that was because Moriarty was taking control and chasing the smaller evil doers away. There had been a stunning theft of a Van Gogh painting from the National Gallery and an armored car robbery in the city. The extortion syndicate the MI5 agent had be murdered by was still operating even though several high profile kidnappings had been stopped. It was just a matter of time before Moriarty had his empire back. The threads that Sherlock had spent two years of his life breaking were slowly spinning their way back to the mad man.

John and Sherlock were in Farringdon, chasing down a lead from Sherlock’s homeless network. Bill Wiggins was with them, leading through the back allies behind afterhours clubs. Broken syringes and crushed vials could be seen scattered near the overflowing bins.

John’s mobile rang with a text message. He pulled it out and read the text from Mary.

“Oh not now!” he hissed. Sherlock stopped and turned to look at his friend. John quickly dialed a number and waited for the other person to pick up.

“Where are you?” John asked. Neither Sherlock nor Bill could hear the answer.

“Are you sure?” He continued.

“Alright, alright. I’ll get him there. What?” John looked up at Sherlock. “No, I don’t carry tranquilizer dart guns on me.” He knitted his brow. “Well yes, it would be best. But what am I supposed to do?” There was a pause. “I’m not knocking him out.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “We’re on our way. I’ll sit on him if he becomes a bother.” A pause. “I love you too.” John disconnected the phone.

He looked up at his friend and smiled. “Sherlock . . .”

Before John could tell him, Sherlock took off running to the main street, calling out and waving his arm in the air to attract a taxi.

“How long John?” Sherlock shouted over his shoulder.

“She just started. Mary’s getting her to hospital right now. We have plenty of time. I’ve been told to keep you under control.”

Sherlock hissed.

“Sherlock you need to calm down and be reasonable once we get there.”

“I’m always reasonable.” The man jumped into the backseat of the taxi. “Billy, stay here and keep looking.” John followed Sherlock into the cab and the two men head across London to St. Bart’s. They were closer than Mary and Molly and would be there before the women arrived.

“Sherlock, I’m serious. You need to calm down and be supportive to Molly.” The man turned and glared at John. “That look is not going to help.”

“I will be the soul of pleasantry to the staff of the hospital.” Sherlock said placing his hand over his heart.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” John leaned back in the seat sighing heavily. The doctor knew the next few hours were going to excruciatingly long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over two hundred kudos and over three hundred hits for the last chapter. Thank you all very much for sticking with this story. I went back and reread a few chapters and realized it has gotten long winded and confusing. Sorry about that. Thanks for all the wonderful comments. Just a few more chapters, but our dear couple will have more hurdles to cross.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just four more chapters.

Chapter Thirty

Once Molly reached the hospital and saw Sherlock, she seemed to calm down. Sherlock too, he became relaxed and remained protective but cooperative as the labor proceeded. That was until Molly’s OBGYN came in and told them they were taking her for a C-section.

“I insist on being present!” He announced.

“Sherlock, you can’t. It’s surgery.” John said as he pulled Sherlock back. Molly looked up scared.

“What’s wrong with the baby?” she asked, her voice wobbling.

“Nothing Molly, it’s just you’ve been through a difficult pregnancy. It would be safer to get her out quickly instead of waiting for a natural labor. I’m also still concerned about your blood pressure. Let’s just get the C-section done and get that little girl out here for her mom to hold.” The female doctor smiled down at Molly laying in the bed.

“Okay.” Molly answered but still worried. Sherlock still glared.

“I don’t see why I can’t be present. I’m the father.”

John rolled his eyes and pulled Sherlock back further. “No you’re not. And besides, as I said before, it is surgery. Molly will be cut open on an operating table. You don’t want to see that.” John whispered.

“But what if something goes wrong, John? I need to be there for Molly.”

“Nothing will go wrong. You will just have to wait with the rest of us.” John patted his friend on the shoulder. “Now go in there and kiss her for luck so they can get started.

*****

From start to finish the procedure took less than ninety minutes. Molly was brought back into her hospital room where Sherlock, John, Mary and Elizabeth were waiting. Sherlock immediately rushed to Molly’s side, checking to see if she was alright. As soon as Mary saw Molly was fine and that the baby was healthy, she said her goodbyes and left with her child.

Sherlock stood watching Molly in the bed. She was very still and pale. An IV of morphine was hung next to the bed as well as an IV solution of antibiotics.

“Is that normal?” Sherlock asked, nodding to the drugs. John nodded yes. Sherlock carefully wrapped his hand around Molly’s. “How do you feel?”

“I can’t feel much of anything.” She smiled.

“John?” Sherlock turned quickly to his friend. “What did the idiots do?”

“Sherlock calm down. They gave her a spinal block.” John explained.

“Sherlock, I was awake for the whole procedure. I was awake when she was born.” Molly whole face lit up as she smiled. “The spinal block paralyzed everything below my ribs. I can’t feel anything but neither can I move. It should wear off in about an hour maybe more.” She watched as Sherlock let out a deep breath he was holding.

Sherlock lifted Molly’s hand to his lips and kiss the back of it, then turned it over and kissed the palm. The two people just stared at each other sharing a private moment, a silent conversation.

The knock on the door broke the moment and Sherlock moved so Molly could see Greg Lestrade standing in the doorway. Mycroft’s security man standing beside him. The elder Holmes placed the guard by Molly’s door without even checking with hospital security.

“May I come in?” Greg asked, giving the tall burly guard a sideways glance.

“Yes,” Molly said and the exact same time Sherlock said, “No.”

Molly gave a mock pout at Sherlock, then smiled at the DI. “Greg please, come in. You are always welcome.”

The gray haired man smiled at Molly and lifted up a bottle of red wine. “Congratulations mommy. You finally get to drink again.” Molly laughed.

“Wine and caffeine, oh heaven.” Molly laughed as Greg leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Have you seen her?”

“Yep, she was up front in the nursery window. The nurse said she would be bring her down here shortly.” Greg leaned back and stared across the bed at Sherlock. Both men narrowed their stares and thinned their lips. “Holmes.”

“Lestrade.”

Molly rolled her eyes and groaned. “Enough, both of you. Sherlock apologized and has been quite remorseful. Greg make up with him.”

Greg glanced back and forth between Molly and Sherlock, then laughed, holding out his hand. Sherlock knitted his brow and pursed his lips as he shook Greg’s hand.

“You lucky bastard. Congratulation.” The DI said. John joined in and hugged Greg. The three men laughed and joked until there was another knock on the door.

Molly looked over and to her surprise, stood Mummy and Daddy Holmes. Sherlock’s parents.

“Sherlock you naughty boy. Why do I have to wait to find out Molly’s given birth from Mycroft?” His mother said as she stepped into the room. Violet Holmes rushed over to the bed and kissed Molly’s forehead too as Timothy Holmes shook his son’s hand.

Greg’s phone texted him and he had to leave just as the nurse came in pushing a bassinet with a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.

Molly’s eyes started to tear as the nurse carefully placed Molly’s baby in her arms. The small child had dark hair and fair features. A small pug nose and cherry red cupid bow lips like Sherlock’s. The baby cooed in Molly’s arms as she rocked her gently.

“Oh Molly she’s beautiful. She looks just like you.” Violet said. Molly looked up at the woman. Violet’s bright inquisitive blue eyes were shining with tears. “What is her name?”

“Kathrine Scott Hooper.” Molly whispered. “We are going to call her Katie.”

Violet covered her mouth with her hands but not before a gasp escaped. Molly looked up quickly worried something was wrong.

“Oh Sherlock, thank you so much.”

Molly’s looked up confused at Sherlock. “My mummy’s name is Violet Kathrine Scott Holmes.” He whispered. Sherlock had not known what name Molly had picked, but he had known that Kathrine was the name of Molly’s paternal grandmother. Scott of course was one of his names.

Molly smiled up at the man surprised by the coincidence. It was perfect then. The name everyone would accept as family. Molly looked back at the elderly woman and saw the tears moving slowly down the woman’s face as her husband held onto her shoulders.

“Timothy our grandchild, isn’t she beautiful?”

Molly knew then and there, family was more than genetics. Family was more than relationships. Family was home and love. She had a family again.

They sat and talked and planned for Katie’s future as the five adults were held captive by the infant.

When the nurse knocked on the door, everyone was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. The nurse showed her credentials to Mycroft’s man standing at the door. The woman was annoyed by the extra security. She smiled at Molly and stepped forward.

“Time to take little Baby Holmes back to the nursery for neonatal blood work. Normal procedure.”

Molly nodded and gently handed the baby over to the woman. The nurse set Katie in her bassinet then pushed it out of the room. Closing the door behind her.

Violet moved across the room and hugged her son.

“Sherlock I’m so very proud of you. You have found the most wonderful woman in the world and now you must make her a Holmes.” Violet patted her son on his cheek.

Sherlock jerked back suddenly. He looked up, then at the door, then back to John.

“What is it Sherlock?” John asked recognizing the look. Something was wrong. Something bad.

“Holmes!”

“Yes Holmes, what is it?”

“THE NURSE SAID HOLMES! KATIE IS LISTED AS HOOPER NOT HOLMES!”

Sherlock took off running out of the room with John right behind him. They dashed down the hall, ignoring the shouts and complaints of the hospital staff. Sherlock pushed his way into the nursery but the woman who took Katie was not there.

“Kathrine Hooper? Where is she?!” He shouted.

“Please sir, you’ll disturb the babies.” The nurse chastised him.

“Where’s Kathrine Hooper?!”

“With her mother of course.”

Sherlock and John looked at each other and took off running in opposite directions. Sherlock ran down one hall and pass the lifts. Beside the door for the fire stairs he found an empty bassinet. Laying on the mattress was a simple note.

_“The itiy bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itiy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”_

John came up behind Sherlock and saw the empty bassinet. Sherlock handed him the note.

“What does it mean?”

“Moriarty, the itsy bitsy spider is back again. Moriarty took Katie.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John becomes the voice of reason again.

Chapter Thirty-one

As Sherlock walked into her room, Molly knew immediately what had happened by the look on his face. He rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her as she screamed.

“NO, NO, KATIE!!”

She tried to lift herself from the bed, her fist beating helplessly at Sherlock’s chest. “NO, WHO TOOK HER?!”

Sherlock pulled back and looked her in the face. His silvery blue eyes telling her without words.

“JIM! MORIARY!”

She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She shook. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Molly up. Moving her gently to his lap, Sherlock held her and rocked her slowly.

“We’ll find her, we’ll find her. I promise.” He repeated over and over again as she wept in his arms.

John had notified hospital security and was calling Mycroft when he stepped back into the room. He saw Molly being held by Sherlock, as Sherlock’s parents stood in the corner. They were holding each other, tears streaming down their faces. John quickly went to them and gently pulled them from the room. John led them to the waiting room, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone.

When she stopped crying, Molly tried to leave the hospital and go after Katie. She collapsed in the hallway, tearing the stitches from the C-section. Molly had to be tranquilized as the doctors repaired the damage. Mike Stanford came and sat with Molly, talking to her. Working to keep her calm, as Sherlock met with Lestrade and Mycroft

“I don’t care what you want Mycroft. You owe me. Two and half years of my life. You owe me.” Sherlock glared as his brother.”

“Sherlock, I owe you nothing but I am more than willing to assist Dr. Hooper. I have people out looking for Kathrine now.”

“Then tell me what you know!” Sherlock demanded.

“We have a video of the nurse leaving the hospital with Katherine. We know she left in a black sedan heading north.”

“Could you identify the tags on the car?” Lestrade asked. Mycroft dipped his chin and pursed his lips.

“Yes, it was stolen.” He said looking down. “From my security service.”

Lestrade, John and Sherlock stared at the man as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Apparently, Moriarty thought it would quite humorous to use one of my cars for this kidnapping.”

“I will kill him.” Sherlock whispered.

“Sherlock, you can’t say something like that in front of me.” Greg said cautiously to Sherlock. “I know your upset but you can’t threaten his life.”

“He’s taken my daughter. Of course I will threaten his very existence. I will rip his very soul from his body.”

John looked up at his friend. He slipped his hand over Sherlock’s forearm and squeezed.

“Maybe you should go back and be with Molly. Let us take care of this.”

Sherlock turned and looked at John, seeing the concern on the man’s face. He then looked at the other two men. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I will find Moriarty. I will find Katie.” Sherlock said firmly. “Just give me a direction to go in and I will find my daughter.”

Mycroft and Lestrade told Sherlock they would start combing through the CCTV recording and trace the car and any other evidence they could find. John promised to stay by Sherlock’s side till Katie was found. As the men stood there planning, one of the nurse came up to them slowly.

The staff of the hospital knew about the kidnapping and were terrified of the consulting detective. The nurse cleared her throat, waiting for the men to look up and notice her. John nodded to her and said.

“Yes, is there something?”

“I ah . . . well you see . . .”

“What is it?!” Sherlock hissed at her.

“There was a package left at the nurse’s station for Dr. Hooper.” The words rushed out of the frighten woman’s mouth.

John stepped forward and took the brown paper wrapped package from the woman. There was just Molly’s name on the top of the box and no other information. John held it suspiciously. Judging its weight and dimentions. He held it up for the other three men to see.

“Should I call the bomb squad?” Lestrade asked.

“No, he wants to taunt me. He wants to humiliate me.” Sherlock said grabbing the package from John. Before the men could argue against him, Sherlock tore the paper off and held a small wooden box with an intricate web design on the lid. Sherlock turned the box over and read the small oval label on the underside next to the turn key for a music box.

“Gelder and Company, Covent Gardens.”

Sherlock opened the lid and the mechanism started playing. The sweet strains of Brahms’s Lullaby carried down the hall. Sherlock stared down at the box as if it was a snake. He slammed the lid shut. John could see the repulsion in his friend’s face.

“What does it mean? Sherlock?”

“Surely you know the words to the lullaby, Dr. Watson?” Mycroft said. Sherlock unable to answer his friend.

“Rock a bye baby in the tree tops. When the wind blows the cradle with rock.” John said.

“When the brow breaks the cradle will fall. And down will come baby, cradle and all.” Sherlock finished.

“Oh my God. He wouldn’t . . .” Lestrade couldn’t say the words.

The fear and anxiety covered each man’s face. Moriarty was threating to kill Katie.

“But where is he?” John asked. “He won’t do that unless he has you as an audience, Sherlock.”

“Tree tops.” Sherlock said. Then he looked at John. “Tree tops. High Timber Street.”

“Where Moran was spotted.” John said.

“Yes, 10 High Timber Street.”

*****

John stood with his arms folded over his chest as he watched his friend pace up and down the hall in front of Molly’s hospital room. The consulting detective’s footsteps were long and quick as he moved ten feet on either side of the door.

“Sherlock, why don’t you go in and wait with Molly.” John said as he watched Sherlock turn around and walk back again.

“I can’t.”

“Why? She needs you right now.”

“John I just can’t.” Sherlock repeated as he turned again.

“You’re an idiot, of course you can. The two of you care for each other. We’ve been through this. You love her.” John said exasperated with the man.

“I know I love her. That’s the problem.” Sherlock stopped and stared down at his friend.

“Problem?”

“Sentiment is interfering with my brain. I can’t think when I’m around her.” Sherlock shook his fingers through his own hair causing the wild curls to become even more messed. “I see her and all I want to do is wrap her up and hide her from the world. That or kill Moriarty. I’m need to concentrate to defeat him. I can’t concentrate with Molly near me right now.”

“I thought Molly calmed you?”

“John, I’m the reason he took Katie. Moriarty wants to hurt me. Destroy me. He took Molly and tried to keep her for himself. He did that knowing it would kill me to lose her. Now he’s taken Katie. My daughter.”

“But she’s not yours.” John whispered.

“She’s as much mine as Molly is. I need them both in my life. I will not tolerate being separated.” Sherlock reared back and glared.

“Then go in there and tell Molly that. Let her know that you will not let them be pulled away from you. You will be her hero yet again.” John leaned forward getting into the taller man’s space. “Sherlock, she needs to know you will fight for her.”

“I need to think John.” Sherlock pleaded.

“You need to reassure the woman you love and mother of your daughter.”

Sherlock stood staring at the man, letting the words hang in the air around them. Molly was frightened. More scared than she had ever been before in her life. Even more than the night she hid under the blanket in the woods. More than when she was shot. She needed Sherlock there to give her strength and he was too weak to do so.

“John, help me.” He whispered.

“Always.”

John Watson leaned further into his friend till he could hug the man in his arms. The two men stood there for a moment. Saying more with their silence than they could with words.

John let go and stepped back. He opened the door for Sherlock, then patted the man on the shoulder. Sherlock looked up and saw Molly sitting on the bed, his parents on either side of her. She looked up and into his face as he stepped into the room. Molly’s eyes were red from crying. She was shaking as she stood up.

“Any word?” Her voice harsh.

Sherlock stepped closer and moved to wrap her protectively. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head as she started to cry again into his chest. Her arms wrapped around his waist.

“We’ll get her back. I promise. We’ll all go home together soon.” He tried to make his voice deep and reassuring. The two people stood holding each other, ignoring the others in the room. Sherlock’s hand lifted up and gently stroked Molly’s hair as he hummed softly to her. Her crying slowed then stopped as she let the man cradle her for a moment.

The sound of the text message pinged through Sherlock’s coat. Molly leaned back as Sherlock pulled the phone out and looked at the message.

_‘Time to play. Bring John.’_

Molly read the message as Sherlock brought his palm up to cup Molly’s face.

“He wants you to come too, John.” Sherlock said as he looked into Molly’s eyes. “I will back soon. I will bring back our daughter. I promise.”

Molly nodded and moved to step back. Sherlock pulled her back and kissed her. “I love you, Molly.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

He let her go and turned quickly to leave. John Watson, always faithful, right behind him.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-two

The sun was low in the sky as Sherlock and John climbed the last flight of stairs that led to the conservatory on top of the building. The Thames River was running high as the tide was starting to turn seven stories below the roof. The two men moved slowly out on between the slanted roofs, carefully taking in their surroundings.

They heard the male voice talking. It was higher pitched than normal and talking in a childish manner. Sherlock and John moved to the edge to see James Moriarty sitting on the parapet holding Katie and talking to her. The city stretched out behind him.

“It’s been proven best to not talk to a child like they are a pet.” Sherlock said. Moriarty did not look up at the men as they approached. Instead he cooed at the child, the small thing tried reaching up with her clasping fists.

“Why not, pets are all they are anyway? She looks just like Molly, doesn’t she? So lovely. How could you part with her?”

“I don’t plan on parting with her. But yes, she looks just like her mother.” Sherlock said as he stepped closer trying to see if Katie was alright. “I know Molly misses her terrible.”

“Molly is so very sensitive, isn’t she?” Moriarty said as he stood and moved closer so Sherlock could see the child’s face.

Katie was happy, her round face peeking out from pink blanket. Her nose slightly red from the cool air, adding color to her pale cheeks.

“Molly would appreciate you return her child to her.” Sherlock said and he held himself still. His muscles twitched, wanting to grab Katie and run. “I assume your friend Moran is across the river with his rifle watching us.”

Moriarty finally tore his eyes away from the baby and stared up at Sherlock. A frightening smile swept across his face.

“After all this time, all that you have seen and done, you are still boring, Sherlock.” He turned away and walked towards the edge again with Katie in his arms. “Whatever did my brother see in you?”

Sherlock fisted his hands, forcing himself to calm down. Modulate his voice to sound unaffected.

“Jasper, correct?”

“Yes, my brother. I loved him very much. He was my other soul. My other half. Oh how you got his attention. He was quite captivated by you.” Moriarty turned back to face the two men. “Do you know what it is like to lose part of your soul? It’s more painful than losing some physical part of you. A hand, an eye, nothing compared to losing your other half.”

The insanity Sherlock and John saw at the pool that night so many years ago returned in the man before them. The intense black eyes, the swaying body, the unspoken vicious threat in the voice. Sherlock swallowed and raised his chin.

“Jasper was more valuable to me than anything else I possessed, even my own life. Imagine my reaction when I found out he was dead.”

“Killed by his own hand.” Sherlock said quietly.

“Killed by you and your brother.” Moriarty screamed. Katie jumped in his arms and started crying.

Moriarty immediately turned his attention to the baby and started speaking softly to her as he rocked her in his arms. John and Sherlock tried to remain still.

“Yes little girl, the great big mean man murdered my brother. Made him feel unwanted, rejected.” Moriarty again looked up at the detective. “All he wanted was your attention. But John was the center of your world, then. Wasn’t he. And orbiting out from John was Mrs. Hudson, then Lestrade. No room for my brother in your little universe. Your brother kidnapped me. Took me to his dungeons and tried to break me. Jasper was frantic with worry. My absence broke something inside him. Jasper was always more delicate. So Jasper went to meet you and you rejected him.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it.” Sherlock said moving towards the edge of the building without closing the distance to the mad man. Sherlock looked over the edge of the building and down to the churning waters of the Thames. “I remember he told me to kill myself or my friends would be killed.”

“Or save yourself and free yourself for him alone.” Moriarty said. “He was testing you. Wanting you to allow him to get rid of the distractions in your life that kept you from him.” Moriarty looked back down to Katie and spoke softly to her. “Silly man. If he had just gone off with Jasper, then your mommy and I could have been happy together.”

Sherlock quickly looked back at John. The two men sharing a quick glance then Sherlock drew his attention back to Moriarty.

“So your sniper is now going to take my distractions away? It’s a little late for Jasper.”

“No you are going to feel some of the pain I felt when I lost Jasper. I will let you chose though.”

Over the top of one of the sloped roofs, the tall broad chested Moran stood. He carefully made his way down to the men while holding a Browning 1911 in front of him. A scar was now quite visible over his brow. His right hand was missing one finger. Apparently the shootout with the SAS had not killed the man but had severely injured him.

“Hello again, Mr. Holmes.” Moran said, his accent strong. “It is good to see you again.”

“This is not your normal chose of weapon, Colonel.”

“No, because of your little trick, I won’t be able to use my rifles anymore.” He pointed to his right eye. “Glass. The scope on my rifle was hit by one of your SAS rounds. It shattered and my eye, my shooter’s eye, was torn from my face. I don’t care what Mr. Moriarty says. It was excruciating losing my eye.”

“Yes, my very own highly trained sniper was made redundant. I am very disappointed.” Moriarty said.

“But at this distance, I can still be lethal with a gun though. I don’t need both eyes. I can kill John Watson from here.” He pointed the gun right at John’s head.

John raised his hands in surrender as Sherlock took a quick shuddering breath.

“It is simple Sherlock. You choose. John or your baby. Who do we watch die today?”

Sherlock refused to look at John. He leaned back on his heels and squared his shoulders.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake, James.” Sherlock said as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Molly’s baby is not mine.”

“Sherlock!” John warned.

Moriarty looked up at the man and smiled. “Sherlock, I read the paternity test results. I know you are the father.”

“You read the false report Mycroft put into her record. She didn’t even have an amniocentesis.” Sherlock moved to stand right beside Moriarty. He looked down at the baby. “That’s why the child looks nothing like me. I’m not the father.”

Moriarty looked down at the baby he was holding, studying the small face.

“No that is Molly and Tom’s baby. You don’t know Tom do you. A nobody who was using Molly to defraud his family fortune. He doesn’t even care he’s the father. Molly is all alone except for that baby you’re holding. And that baby is all alone except for Molly.” Sherlock turned and looked at John.

The soldier nodded. He slowly lowered his hands and readied himself. He only hoped it would be quick and not like Afghanistan. Sherlock was becoming frantic. He needed to save both of them. But how?

Moriarty kept looking at the baby he was holding. She had dark eyes. They were not blue at all. Weren’t babies supposed to have blue eyes? He thought. No Katie had the chocolate brown eyes of her mother. The smooth skin and round face. Just like Molly. Katie, Molly’s baby. Not Sherlock’s. Moriarty lifted the baby to his face and gently kissed her brow.

“Arianna. My darling.” He whispered. Moriarty walked over to the baby carrier and bent down. Carefully he place her back into the carrier, securing the straps. He picked the carrier up and moved to stand next to Sherlock again. “Well then that settles it. We don’t need to delay this any longer.”

The gunshot echoed down the Thames River. Bouncing off the buildings and carrying far down from building. Colonel Sebastian Moran, formally of the South African Army flew backwards as the projectile pierced his heart. Blood spattered across the rooftop as John’s instincts dropped him to his knees, covering his head. John looked around trying to locate the sniper but saw nothing.

Moriarty and Sherlock were still standing, dazed by the killing of the killer. Moriarty suddenly screamed and hurled himself at Sherlock. The baby carrier jostling as the two men suddenly were in a wrestling match at the edge of the parapet. John rushed forward and grabbed the carrier yanking it from Moriarty’s grip as Sherlock and Moriarty tipped over the edge of the low wall.

Sherlock felt the two of them start to fall and he let go of the man and reached for the edge of the bricks. The stone edging tearing his flesh as he grabbed it. Clinging for his life, he felt a sudden jerk and a painful pulling on his left leg. He fought to maintain his grip on the brick wall when he looked down to see Moriarty attached to his left ankle. The man’s face contorted is anger and hatred.

“YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!” Moriarty shouted at the detective as he tightened his grasp.

The second gunshot was just as unexpected as the first. Sherlock felt Moriarty jerk with the impacted and sway from his arms. Then Moriarty let go and fell the seven stories to the muddy rushing waters of the river. Disappearing into its depths. Sherlock looked over his shoulder but could not see Moriarty anywhere in the water.

“JOHN!” he shouted.

The face of the doctor looked over the parapet at Sherlock. John grabbed Sherlock’s wrists and started pulling.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Sherlock shouted.

“SAVING YOUR BLOODY LIFE YOU IDIOT!” John pulled hard and lifted Sherlock up and over the low wall. Pulling the taller man on top of himself, John let out a huff. The two men laid on the roof panting as Katie cooed in her carrier beside them.

*****

The tall blonde man stood up and carefully disassembled the sniper rifle and stored it way in the artist portfolio case. The case was twenty-four inches by thirty inches and could easily hide the rifle. Then the man walked down stairs of the tower at the Tate. No one inside the building realizing the gunshots they heard were from the roof of the museum. He stepped through the crowds and out to the waiting sedan.

The back door opened and he quickly set the portfolio in and slid onto the backseat. As the sedan slipped away from the kerb, a lead crystal tumbler was handed to him. He sipped the ice cold vodka and nodded to the man who handed it to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.” Alec Trevelyan smiled at Mycroft Holmes.

“No problem at all, Commander Trevelyan. I realized your close connection to the Moncrieff family.”

“Yes Rodney’s older brother and I were in SBA together.” Alec took another sip of the vodka.

“Yes, I thought you would want to be the one who eliminated the man who brought such discomfort to your friend’s family.” Mycroft said. “I have tremendous empathy for Captain Moncrieff.”

Alec Trevelyan didn’t believe Holmes would have empathy with anyone but Q had brought the two men together and Alec was more than happy to kill the man who killed his friend’s brother.

“If ever I need your special skill sets again . . .”

“I suggest you go through my boss.” Alec said.

“Yes, M and I are old friends. We share the same club.” Mycroft smiled and leaned back into his seat. Alec looked at him, studying the strange man who Q claimed was the British Government. Alec finished his vodka turning to look out the window as the car traveled west. He thought it strange that the man hanging on the side of the building looked so much like Q. He would have to ask James about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, you have all made me blush. 300 hits since yesterday. Thank you so much for your support of this story. It became easier to write seeing how many times people were reading it. And the comments meant a lot to be. I will try to have the last chapter up today..


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a very short chapter to pull all the strings together.

Chapter Thirty-three

Molly refused to stay in the bed. She paced back and forth in the small hospital room, biting her nails. She had tried to leave and go search for Katie but the guard at the door wouldn’t allow her to outside the hospital room. The doctors had also insisted she stay. Mike Stanford had put his foot down that she was not to leave the floor.

Molly could feel the tug of her surgery. She wasn’t healing as fast as she need to. She was still attached to an IV and her stitches had to be replaced once already.

Violet and Timothy Holmes sat quietly in the corner, watching the woman pace. They held hands and waited for their sons to return with some news. Mycroft had reassured them that everything was under control, but their eldest wouldn’t explain where Sherlock was or what was taking so long to get Katie back.

“Molly, dear wouldn’t like to rest for a while?” Violet suggested, but Molly didn’t even look up as she moved back and forth, dragging her IV pole with her.

The door opened and Sherlock stood in doorway holding Katie, still wrapped in her pink blanket. Molly spun to see the man and her child. Finally Molly could not take any more. Her legs collapsed underneath her and she slumped to the floor as she gasped. The strain of worry finally being released. Sherlock rushed forward and knelt beside her. Molly looked up at him as he gently put the baby back into her arms. Molly burst into tears, openly crying, as she cradled her daughter.

Sherlock knelt closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He kept whispering into her hair. His chest ached with want to calm Molly. To reassure her.

John and Lestrade stepped in behind the detective and watched as mother and child were reunited. Everyone was affected by the scene. Molly’s tears, Sherlock’s voice, the soft murmuring of prayers answered. Violet and Timothy stood and moved to hover over their own son.

“Please Molly forgive me.” Sherlock said.

“You brought her back. You said you would.” Molly cried leaning into him. “Thank you, thank you.”

“I should have known he would come after her. But never again. He’s gone. We’re safe.” He kissed her hair. “Molly I need to ask you . . . Molly you are so very special . . . you and Katie. I can’t live without you. I can’t breathe without you.”

“Sherlock I don’t understand, what are saying?” Her tears slowed as she looked up at him.

“Please don’t make me ask you in front of all these people.” He whispered to her. “Please Molly?” Violet Holmes eyes grew big as she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Sherlock?”

“Molly Hooper will you marry me? Will you let me be your husband? Let me be Katie’s father?”

“Yes.”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so enjoyable to write this story. Thank you all for your comments and remarks. It has encouraged me to post more often than I was expecting. I think I pulled every thing together, music boxes, Moran, High Timber Street, and Moriarty. Thank you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcomed and enjoyed.


End file.
